


The Wall Between Us

by NohbdyKnows



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dorks in Love, Eventual Romance, F/M, Humor, Idiots in Love, Inventor Doctor, Jack is a flirt, Pianist Rose, Slow Burn, Tardis is a Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:22:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NohbdyKnows/pseuds/NohbdyKnows
Summary: AU Based off the French Film - Blind Date. Rose, the soft hearted pianist has just moved in the flat next door. She just wants space to herself. John, the moody inventor next door wants peace and quiet. Unfortunately these walls are thin and hollow. John does everything he can to convince Rose to move out from his side of the wall. Things do not go according to plan.





	1. Who You Gonna Call? (Ghostbusters)

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo!
> 
> I'm trying to move over to AO3 from ff.net.  
> I don't have a beta, I do make mistakes. I'm also not British, so other stuff is probably a bit off too. I tried okay. If you let me know about the issues I'll fix them.  
> Constructive criticism is good. Will try to post weekly, I have most of the story written, but editing is never ending.  
> Nobody sue me I have no net worth to speak of.

Rose hummed as she unpacked her boxes. The little flat wasn’t much to look at, but it was out of the estates. Just one open room and a little loo tucked off the the corner. It came with furnishings so all she had to do was decorate. And paint. The walls did not deserve the frankly hideous shade of mustard brown they had been given. 

She directed the movers as they brought in her prized possession, an old oak piano. It took up about a quarter of her available space, but her priorities were never particularly sensible. It would need tuning after the move, so she was wont to play it yet. Though with her current stress levels and the number of boxes piling up her fingers were itching to dance across the keys. She ran her fingers over the carved branches in the wood. It reminded her of a fairy tale, oak and ivory, carved and capable of singing. A soft snort escaped her nose, yeah closest thing she’d ever get to a fairy tale, stroking an old piano. Lost in thought, Rose neglected to help as most of her boxes where toted up the steps. 

“Oi,” her friend Donna called from down the hallway out the flat door, “Do ya really need this many pink pillows?” Her arms were full and she stumbled trying to navigate the narrow hall.

“Yeah,” Rose grinned her smile wide and toothy, but Donna noted, as was so often as of late, the bright smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Well get over and help then Blondie!” 

Rose hopped down the hall, snatching a few pillows off of Donna’s stack and they re-entered the flat. “Let’s get painting!” Declared Rose as she set the last of the boxes in the flat, ready to begin unpacking, a task she could manage alone, but the painting… that she wanted assistance on. After several hours spent correcting the horrid pukeish color of her new walls, Donna and Rose were covered in small drying drips of paint and pleased as punch with their work. The only wall left untouched was the “accent” wall, the far wall. Already a decent pleasing shade of cream without any marks, Rose left it alone. She even left up the odd painting of a bowl of bananas. Maybe she’d replace it once she could afford some proper art. Now she just felt glad to have a real picture up with a gilded frame, like the adult everyone said she couldn’t be. 

The pale soft pink paint was drying by the time she declared herself starving and dragged Donna off for some fish and chips. The line was short and the girls decided to tuck in on a park bench. The day was overcast but not cold, the faint scent of spring on the air.

“You sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

“Better than I’ve been with ‘im,” Rose retorted nose wrinkling at the reference.

“You could always have moved in with me, or your mum…” Donna trailed off with a small spark of amusement in her eyes. 

“You already live with your mum and grandad, and I am not moving back in with Jackie, not again,” Rose’s face smoothed out as she popped another chip in her mouth, “Immaya fwond fawfat ship sop.”

“Wot.” 

Rose swallowed, “Can’t leave now, I may have found a favorite chip shop.”

“Oh, now you’re stuck here!” Donna’s bright smile teased. 

“S’pose I should be gettin’ back,” Rose frowned at the setting sun, reluctance to leave her company for the foreseeable future. 

“Call me if you need anything. Or nothing. Really, No bother. Or if you find a fit bloke,” Donna stood, ushering Rose in for a hug. Rose just giggled in reply. “Thank you, Donna.”

The walk back was quiet, but Rose knew her new flat would be quieter, so she soaked in the sound of the cars, the soft street chatter, the opening of doors. With the windows left open the paint smell was leaving the room quickly, Rose figured she’d just leave them open, the night would be warm enough. As she prepared for bed, she noticed the oddest tapping noise... or maybe it was a mysterious ticking... from the far wall. Carefully creeping from her sink to the wall, toothbrush poking out from between her lips, she put her ear against the wall, only to have her head jolted as the wall moved a bit. That was odd. She leaned back with a hand rubbing her head, “Wotcha…?” she muttered heading the the sink to spit. The noise stopped and with a glare and a curse to the god of noisy neighbors, Rose sat on her bed and flicked off the light.

With the darkness came the noise. The low pitched haunting sound, potentially a wail or a keen. She sat straight up in bed. It’s eerie pattern creeping into her skull and turning her eyes to the wall between flats, with the funny banana picture. And all was well if not a bit unsettling until the picture moved. The damn thing drifted up and down the wall, spun upside down and then returned to its initial position. 

Rose didn’t feel sleepy any longer and whipped out her mobile. “Donna, yeah, I’m just…” Chatter from the other line was heard in the room, like a whisper compared to whatever ghosts haunted her wall. “I’ll be over in ten.” Rose grabbed her purse off the bed post and scrambled for the door, locking whatever alien thing haunting the wall was inside. 

\--xx--

John grinned. The magnetic coils that reversed the polarity in the independently charging phone, with it’s set of coils could be perfectly insulated with packing foam. With the introduction of a secondary set of magnets the phone could be made to levitate, and cold create a small magnetic field of charging itself. A charging loop so to say. Not that this information was of great usefulness but it was fun. He balanced another magnet over the top of the phone.

“No...nononononono,” he muttered as the phone promptly overheated and shut off. He really hoped the phone coils hadn’t melted again. A buzz interrupted his thoughts and he went to the door to let Jack in. 

“Jack,” he stated staring into the giddy grin of the man outside the door.

“Soooo,” Jack inquired, “how was the new neighbor?”

“Scared ‘em out in under three hours, new record,” John grinned back, head bobbing in amusement. Jack frowned.

“You know, could have been a beautiful dame, you could have borrowed some flour, borrowed some chapstick...right from the shortest source…”

“I don’t do that.” John’s tone went from bubbly to icy in half a heartbeat. 

“John…”

“And no you can’t go flirting with her either. Want her to stay gone not come round every week looking for your apologies.”

“So it is a her!”

“You’re impossible.”

Jack stalked over the the wall, “Nice magnetic holder,” he gestured to the large oval on the wall, to which a magnet on the other side held up the banana painting he’d made in that one art class Jack forced him to go to years ago. 

John rolled his eyes, “It works. I just want quiet. That’s it. No squeals no giggles and no distractions.”

Jack sighed, “I get it, you invent stuff, but can’t you manage during the day when people are out? And would it kill you to do your dishes?” Jack pointed to the pile of blue and white china on the counter and in the sink.

“Domestics,” John wave his arm, “bought paper ones, we’re all set now.”

“We?” Jack inquired, noting the unslept in twin bed, the laundry piled up next to it, the disaster of a kitchen, and the endless sprawl of parts. Little metal gears, screws, scraps. John was brilliant. Some of his inventions revolutionized the tech industry. But if he wasn’t a disaster. 

“Me and Tardis.”

“T.A.R.D.I.S.? Your computer program?” Jack quirked an eyebrow.

“No, Tardis the cat auton,” John said… “I don’t think she likes company.”

“You got a cat? And named it after your computer program?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Jack. I made a cat,” John scoffed at the notion. As if he’d buy a cat. And he knew he’d used the name before...

“You made a cat?” The shock value of this all was really tugging at Jack’s skin.

“Welllll, in simple terms I made a robot and uploaded a cat’s consciousness to the mainframe.” It was significantly more complicated than this, but John for once didn’t feel like explaining. And didn’t want Jack asking him to download him onto a porn server or some such nonsense.

“Where did you get a cat’s conscious...never mind. I don’t want to know. I thought you hated cats.”

“I don’t hate them...they’re just… catty.”

“John, I have no idea how you’ve managed this far.”

John declined response and took up looking for Tardis. Who seemed to mysteriously disappear. John didn’t worry much, she had a tendency to disappear there and reappear here every so often. Just a bit of spatio-temporal anomaly. 

\--xx--

“I'll be out of here before you wake up,” Rose said as Donna sleepily opened her front door. “Won't even know I was here.” Rose followed Donna into the sitting room, and waited, leaning against the wall while Donna fished blankets from a closet down the hall.

“Don't be silly, you can stay as long as you like,” as she spoke sleep cleared from her eyes, “why'd you leave anyways?” She bustled around Rose, putting blankets on the couch and clearing the take away from the coffee table. 

“I think my flat is haunted,” Rose grimaced, pulling her bleach blonde hair up and back into a bun. She’d been so pleased when she allowed herself to dye it from it’s mousy brown last week.

“Haunted?” Donna stopped arranging the pillow, and turned to look at Rose. The girl in question flushed.

“No...maybe not...it's just so empty,” she shrugged.

“You,” Donna pointed at her, “are the numpty who wanted to live alone. I offered you the guest room, and now it's too late grandad's rented it out to this young gal. You should meet her, she's a teacher and all eyes.”

Rose remained silent, running her hands over her arms as if cold. “Sounds lovely. I just don't want to be around people after...everythin’” Pulling Rose into her arms on the sofa Donna held her. There were no tears just a tentative arm that wrapped back around her. 

“It'll look better in the morning,” Donna reassured. Yet by the time she woke the next day, Rose was gone, the blankets folded neatly at the foot of the couch.


	2. All Is Fair (In Love And War)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, me again.  
> Not too sure how long/short to make chapters but I'm just...guessing on cut off points? I used to be more of a one shot person.  
> Anyway, have a lovely weekend!

Rose went out to do the shopping, milk and bread would be needed if she was going to survive. And ear plugs. And maybe a priest. She decided just to get the ear plugs for now, hoping that without sound whatever was happening to her flat would be manageable. 

“Hey sugar,” the grocery boy smiled too widely at her to just be friendly. Rose ignored him, busying herself with her wallet as he rang up the items. 

“You're missin’ somethin’,” he flirted as Rose pulled crumpled bills from the torn blue wallet. He waited for a reply before he finished ringing her up. Rose sighed.

“What.”

“My number!” He printed off the receipt and scrawls down a series of digits. Rose frowned and accepted the receipt wordlessly. 

“Call me!” He shouted as she exited the store with her parcel. 

Rose tore off the number outside the grocer's and let the fair scrap of paper sail off on the wind. She almost felt bad about not recycling. 

Punching in the number at her flats door she trudged up the stairs, jaw set. “I ain't afraid of no ghosts…” she muttered turning her key in the lock. 

The flat was as she left it. Half unpacked and cold, the curtains billowing in the breeze. With the paint fumes settled, Rose shut the windows and turned on the furnace, it's soft rumble comforting in the all too quiet room. She kick off her flats and curled up on her plush pink armchair. It afforded her a view of the whole room, and the small rabbit eared telly she'd tried to set up last night. Promising herself she'd figure it out tomorrow, she picked up her crossword book that she stowed in the chairs cushion. Six letter word for florists land…  
She tapped her pencil against the tray table she had next to her. Tap. Six letters. Tap. Garden. Tap. Tap. Five letter word for sleepy hallucination. Tap. Dream. Six letter word for dentists hole in one. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Cavity. Rose grinned but quickly dropped the smile when the wailing through the wall started up. It wasn't quite as frightening in the daylight. Still, she hesitated, fingers fishing her mobile from her pocket just in case. 

Padding to the wall, Rose ran her fingers across the whitish paint. The painting twisted in its place again and she backed up. She swore she almost heard a slight wheeze of laughter through the wall. 

With a heavy scowl she grabbed the painting and pulled it off the wall. It came off surprisingly easily and she fell back on her bum with a soft whosh of air.  
More interesting however was the cessation of the ghost noises and the hard thump of a body falling to the ground from the other side of the wall. Following this was a string of curse words, or rather Rose assumed they were curse words, they didn't sound English. Maybe sort of Asian-ish. Hands still touching the edges of the painting, Rose peered over to the back of it and noticed the large magnet in the center of it. On the wall was a slim pinpoint hole where the picture had been.Silence stretched out near the wall and Rose placed the painting against the wall, sliding it until it latched onto its counterpart magnet on the other side. She knocked cautiously in the wall.

“Hullo?”

There was a shift in movement on the other side but no reply. 

“I know you're over there!” Rose exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the empty air. 

“No I'm not.” A petulant reply sounded from the other side of the wall, a masculine voice with smooth estuary accent.

“Really then whose answering me?” Her eyebrows rose on her forehead. 

“You nearly broke my wrist!” the voice was as incredulous as it is injured. 

“Wouldn't've done if ya hadn't been trying to frighten me.” 

“Is it too much to ask that you just move out now?” The man snarked through the wall. 

Rose's eyes narrowed as she leveled a glare at the bananas. 

“'m not leaving.” 

“The sound between these flats carries like nothing else. Walls are thin and hollow.”

“So why don't you move?”

“I was here first.”

“So? I was here second,” Rose resisted the urge to pitch something at the wall. 

“I need the quiet. Helps me think. Don't need you and your...noise.”

“Could pick times for each of us--”

“No,” he interrupted her, “it's my flat and I need all hours.”

“Couldn't you just liste--”

A resounding crash of something falling from up high halted Rose's speech. A series of crashes followed as more items were seeming flung downwards. Were those pots and pans? 

Shoulders set back in irritation Rose stomped over to the piano in her flat and flung open the cover. Her fingers danced a melody of Chopin's on the ivories, fast, loud and without any care for the lack of tuning or accuracy. More items fell and more piano was played until in a fit of exhaustion it was he who gave up first, slumped to the floor hands over his ears as Rose played a victory rendition of ‘We are the Champions’.

\--xx--

He was gonna kill her. A bloody piano. The pans he’d pulled from their hanging places on the ceiling littered the floor, small scuffs on the linoleum the only evidence of his insanity.  
When the piano died out, the shower ran and feet shuffled over the floor. When it quieted John assumed she’d dropped off to sleep. Or preferably off the face of the planet. Clearing up the pans from the ground, he hung them back from the ceiling of his kitchen. From the entryway John wheeled over his chalkboard, scribbling out the integrals he needed to work on for his newest project. The curvature of the electric grid needed to be exact. He slid on his specs and got to work. 

He was returned to himself hours later, dazed and slightly hungry. The chalk dust clung to his fingers and powdered his unruly hair. Running his fingers through the white and brown mess on his head he perused through his kitchen. 

Tardis jumped up on the counter, movements lacking just a bit of the catlike grace she was expected to have. 

“Looks like it's….” John pulled out a box of half eaten Wheatabix and a can of beans…”a feast.” Tardis meowed. Or at least she would have had she been a cat. It was actually a mechanical tone recording of meow, a bit too low and grinding. 

John pulled out spoilt milk from the fridge and frowned. He opened the lid and gave it whiff. The resulting smell prompted a gag and quick recap of the milk. Back into the fridge. Cold dry cereal and beans it was. He’d have to do the shopping tomorrow. 

The the daze of doing work and the adrenaline from banging pots and pans for three hours faded, John reflected on his new neighbor. Clearly insane, this woman, who didn’t leave after a good haunting and pan greeting. There was only one real solution to this noisy neighbor. The bloody piano was what did it. That could not stay. 

“Not a chance,” John stroked the metallic warm body of Tardis. Her gears grumbled under his fingers. “This means war.” He grinned manically. Tardis hopped off the table in disdain. “Where you going?” John asked the empty air. Clearly Tardis had better things to do that watch this little war. John grabbed his coat and waltzed out the door. It was now 6am there was bound to be something open.

He did actually purchase some food. And oil for Tardis. His next stop was somewhere more inventive. The people at the hardware store had every right to absolutely terrified of John. With a myriad of unusual purchases and a wide unsettling grin, he was the picture of potential insanity. The cashier made a note in the log book of his purchases and behaviors. Just in case. 

\--xx--

John finally fell into a cat nap around nine. With a scant few hours of sleep he began planning his counter-strike for when the neighbor returned. Deciding to start off easy he found the old hoover at the back of his closet. It was about time he did some cleaning. Of course it was far too early. Best wait until about....say 1 am. Sleep never came easily to John, he reasoned he wouldn't even be tired until the next day. It had been this way for the past five years anyway. Figuring his time was far better spent being awake anyway, he fished in the tool cabinet for his prototype and began to work. 

By the hour of one John had made little progress, which normally would have put him in a sour mood, but he was buoyant with energy. He'd heard her come back hours ago. This had been a quiet evening for her, only a slow melody he didn't know drifting through the flat. Perfect, he thought, that she would be sound asleep about now. He plugged in the vacuum and made quick work of the carpet. However right against the wall there...that needed heavy hoovering. And if he happened to hit the wall several times in the process as well. Par for the course. And if he happened to stand in one section of the room hitting one spot on the wall with the vacuum for two hours well. She had it coming. 

“Stop it!!” The girl across the wall yelled, and the sound of something soft thrown at the wall only propelled John's peels of laughter. 

He kept this hoovering up for another two hours with sporadic insults from the wall peppering the hours. 

“You can't just do this!”

He opened his can of cola, took a swig, didn't cease motion in his other arm. 

“You’re crackers mate!”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Why you doin this to me?”

“D'ya know wot time it is?”

It was five am before he stopped. His arm was tired and he had to go into work today. One of those unavoidable meetings that exist even for genius inventors. He flicked the hoover off and with a skip in his step moved off to shower. She was unusually quiet now that the noise was gone. It was only after he exited the shower and moved to his dresser that John heard a soft whisper. “I'll get you back.” He scowled and slammed the dresser top shut. “We'll see,” he replied through his teeth. 

\--xx--

Oh, he was maddening, Rose thought as she walked to Hendrick's for her afternoon shift. What seemed to be a lull or consent to her victory the night before had quickly ramped back up when he decided to hoover the wall for hours in the night. There was only one thing this signaled. And that was war. 

After eight hours of folding clothes and getting yelled at by women with blunt bobs asking to speak to the manager, Rose clocked out. She was exhausted, having moved into the flat with the worst possible neighbor meant she'd have less and less sleep. Well. If she couldn't sleep, then he wouldn't sleep either. A smile spread over her lips as she walked into the drug store. 

Time to make a few purchases that may secure her some sanity. The bloke at the checkout counter scrawled her name and time of departure, the smile on her face left him a bit unsettled, it's always good to make notes of suspicious suspect. Though he also asked for her number for...personal reasons as well. Her smile may be a little unhinged, but her lips were stunningly kissable looking. 

Among her recent purchases were a pair of ear plugs which she promptly inserted in her ears as she entered the house. She got to work quietly. In a long line on the side of the room facing the wall, Rose lined up the thirteen one dollar alarm clocks she'd bought. And set them to go off at five minute intervals and not turn off until she turned them off. Volume all the way up and cue the annoyance in an hour. She smiled to herself again, and packed her purse to go down to the chippy down the road for a several hours. Bringing a crossword, she'd be fine. As she left, John came home, missing Rose only be a few minutes on her way out. If they'd been headed in and out from the same street they would have crossed paths. But they didn't.


	3. Sugar You're Going Down (Swinging)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! The weather is finally tolerable here joys. Thanks for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions!

Had Rose been home she'd have heard John curse. In at least five languages for the better part of an hour before he filled his sink with water and stuck his head in just to quiet the noise. The beeping was just endless. Blimey this woman. John stood up for a gulp of oxygen before re-submerging in the sink. Time to upgrade his plans to the next level.  
Rubbish meetings at work making his day horrible and now. And now he was surrounded by horrid beeping. John would almost take the piano, at least it was music. It might even distract him from the incessant board members demanding something new and brilliant. It didn’t work like that, John did things on his own terms. 

John dragged out the jars from under his bed, she’d regret those alarm clocks. He’d make abso-bloody-loutly certain. 

The beeping stopped around 9 pm, which John though was more for her benefit than his, needing somewhere still to sleep. So John called a temporary truce in his head to take a two hour nap. He woke, rested as he ever was, to a nightmare, the flames licking at his pale skin seeming more real in his flat than they had any right to be. 

When his breathing calmed he focused. Focused for once not on the little gears he spent his days working with, that only brought more flashes of fire and blood to his eyes, but instead on the jars of marbles on the counter. He padded barefoot across the floor, and unlatched the first jar. Wish flourish he poured it over the floor, the plinking colorful beads scattering like his mind over the kitchen tile. He picked up the second jar, letting it tilt and letting the marbles fall more slowly. He had at least ten jars. Wondering where’d he’d lost all his marbles to used to be part of John’s past time, but when he found the box last year the joke became significantly less funny. And less funny still as the last time he’d made that joke, he hadn’t thought himself the villain of his own story. John scowled at the jar. With a thick swallow he forced the lump down his throat. He really just wanted to be left alone. Hand clenching around the cold silica, John swayed in spot.

He flung the next jar at the wall and the glass shattered raining down with the marble over the floor. 

“What are you bloody doing???” He ignored the voice in the wall. Pouring marbles to the floor until there were none left. Until he no longer felt off balance, until his breathing steadied  
and his hands stopped sweating. 

In the silence that followed, John knelt to the floor, eyes shut and unwilling to accept the lack of stimuli and spend more time in his own brain, he began picking up the marbles and dropping them every so often. Distracting himself and getting rid of the neighbor. If he was going to do this he was going to need to snap out of this. He sat up straight, and tugged his sleep shirt back into place. John had no desire to lose this game. This was his flat. 

\--xx--

Rose was livid. What was he dropping on the floor? And why’d it have to happen at night? When normal humans were sleeping. Whenever she’d tried to negotiate he just laughed. Or made noise with things. She really wasn’t sure what lived in that flat, but she was sure he wasn’t sane or human. So when she was up she made sure to slam drawers, and walk with heavy steps. Things her ex would have berated her for. And honestly it felt good to defy that notion. Rose let the cupboard door shut on its own power, the smack of wood oddly satisfying, knowing somewhere out there that man was cringing. And the one next door was probably cringing too. With a crooked little smile, she packed her lunch, and zipped up her hoodie.

Before leaving work the that morning she plugged in her hair-dryer on high and left it on the wooden chair. It wasn’t like she was planning on witnessing the chaos that transpired while she was away. 

\--xx--

John used that evening to partake in a new experiment. Welding together bits of prototype was his job but he decided afterwards to work on a little personal project. The recent advances in sonic emissions from devices was fascinating and he was fairly certain he had a screwdriver lying around. And some more cabinets to put up. It was far better and more productive than an emotional breakdown at any rate. Plus new ideas for things always brought him amusement. As was tormenting his new neighbor, though he hadn’t thought that it would. Yet, her little retaliations brought a daft grin to his face. She might hate him, and a bit rightfully, but for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone. And deserving or not he almost appreciated the company, the irritating disruptive company that he would drive away. 

\--xx--

Did this man never sleep? Rose was beginning to become seriously concerned both for her sake and the man who stayed up all night doing some kind of metal grinding. She finally set to work tuning the piano. Taking her time on the particularly off notes. After all they needed the most help. Her fingers danced over the piano keys that morning as she paused every few bars for a sip of coffee. With the morning off she decided an aggressive Mozart piece would be just a lovely touch to the morning sunlight streaming in the window. And it was in tune, so she wasn't a complete asshat of a neighbor, right?

\--xx--

Why did it have to be a pianist? John groaned, rubbing his eyes. Now even if he wanted to (or could) sleep he very well couldn’t. Well. He found his old bill cabinet, today seemed like a good day to shred everything he’d been avoiding shredding for the past three years. There were many things to get rid of, some he'd been hesitant to put behind him. But needs must.

\--xx--

Who had four hours worth of shredding to do? Was it even shredding? Rose pulled at the ends of her hair. This was going to drive her insane. There was no way she was backing down. She called her mum, just to hear a voice loud enough to block out the shredder. So what if she had to hear about Bev’s new hair color and Harold’s recent obsession with eating nibbles in bed. It was only when Jackie started asking about her living situation and “When it was that I could visit herself, if that wasn’t too much to ask. I only have one daughter, Rose!” Rose did her best to promise to visit soon, and trying to beg off the phone before Jackie invited herself over. As soon as the shredding stopped she dug under her bed for her mum’s old bowling ball. Which she proceeded to roll across the floor for two hours while blasting heavy metal. 

\--xx--

What. Was somebody bowling? John looked up from his textbook on electrical physics. Bowling? He shoved off and left, headed to the library to read in peace for a few hours. Upon return John picked up the hammer from his tool box. He didn’t particularly have anything to do with said hammer most of the time, but he did have some wood scraps from his last project and he did so love it when his neighbor tried to guess exactly what he was doing in his flat. Just as he’d done that morning. He swung the hammer at the boards. He slammed a drawer several times and rang a bell. He preened at his cleverness. 

\--xx--

She had no idea what noises where coming from the wall now. An endless flurry of frustration leaked from her lips in the form of odd exasperated noise. She put in her earplugs and rolled over in bed. Her day at work was uneventful but on the way home she picked up some childrens party balloons. After she toasted and managed to burn her entire dinner in the microwave, still being a bit fearful of the oven, she began blowing up balloons amid the burnt smelling flat. Surrounded by balloons covering the floor and her bed, she took out a needle. And a kazoo from the party shop with the balloons. With great force she began kazooing and popping balloons in a festive sort of dance around the flat. Greatly tempted to laugh she had to focus on being as annoying and exuberant in her task as possible. 

It struck her how beyond ridiculous this was. And how much she really should hate her inadvertent flatmate. But, God, this was...fun. 

\--xx--

This was admittedly getting out of hand, John thought as he located the chains he used to use to tie up his bike. The flat was also a great deal cleaner than it used to be, all hoovered and papers shredded. He used the bike chain to hit the wall. Then dropped it on the floor. Then repeated that several hundred times while running through the differentials of rotational motion. 

\--xx--

What kind of man was this? Whipping the wall with somethin’. Rose thought blearily as she shuffled into the kitchen, slippers sliding across the cold wood floor. Oh. The floor. She drank her tea then made plans for after work hours. 

Upon the return home Rose glided on the rollerblades she’d swiped back from Shireen on the way home. She zoomed around her flat, and with a newly purchased tambourine and her trusty kazoo she strove to make a nuisance of herself. At least she wasn’t moping around the estates with Mickey. Maybe that was better, or at least more adult. Rose tried not think about it as she crashed into the wall a few times. 

When Donna called she picked up the phone breathless and still rolling. 

“Yeah?”

“It's me!” She singsonged through the phone, “How's the new flat? Less creepy?”

Rose paused. Well. It was no longer creepy, but she had the literal worst neighbor. Rose rolled into the window and let out an oof. 

“Blondie?” Donna asked through the phone.

“'m fine,” she answered, sitting down and removing her skates. “D'ya wanna meet up? I got plenty of stories.”

They agreed on a spot to meet for dinner the next day. And when the hour came Rose did her best to ignore the sound of squeaking crows the wall made. At the knock on her door she flung herself out into the hall and grabbed Donna's wrist rushing out of the unquiet flat. 

“You'll never believe my week!” Rose chattered as they walked to a little bistro a few blocks down. She filled her friend in on the general insanity of the man next door and their little war of sound. Donna regarded her with an incredulous stare followed by short chuckles. 

“So you've got a new boyfriend?” 

“Never in a million years,” Rose grumbled, “I'd rather be with ghost I thought was haunting me. Or move to the moon.”

“Oi down to earth spacegirl! Blimey. So what are you going to do?”

“'m gonna win.”

\--xx--

With a hot glue gun and some nails John made a lovely new instrument that he scraped down the side of his chalkboard. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave a mark.  
If the begging and pleading on the other side of the wall was any indication he’d soon get her to crack.

\--xx--

Rose played the piano again, not with any grace and not any song. She just slammed her hands to the keys creating a ruckus and sang happy birthday loudly and off key as many times as warranted until the man shouted through the wall and her voice was hoarse. Then she called Shireen. And they gossiped loudly about the other residences of the estates back home. Apparently Shireen was still sneaking blokes over to Jackie’s with Rose’s old hidden key. Somehow. Even though Rose didn’t live there anymore. Rose warned her of Jackie’s impending and eventual slap when she found out.

\--xx--

Rubber mallet in hand, John decided to just use it smack whatever surface was nearest to him. All day. Whenever he happened to think about it. Or look over at the hammer. Or get up. He wasn’t even certain she was home some of those times, but gosh if he was going to get her he had to be prepared at all times. He even started on the dishes when she growled through the wall. And the clatter of plates filled the air. If he dropped a few...forcefully to the ground well...less to wash. 

\--xx--

Rose decided to go out that evening if just to get away from the noise. Shireen and the girls were happy she finally was back and willing to go out to the club for a quick pint. When she got home she tipsily determined it was time to rearrange the room several times that night. Dragging her furniture across the floor in long scraping sweeps. She even called Jackie, and nearly begged her to come slap him. Unfortunately her mum had a head cold and was completely unwilling to get off the sofa.


	4. Tick-Tock (Goes The Clock)

After stealing Jack’s basketball the next day and claiming to need it for research purposes John was ready for a bit of fun. He spent the evening pretending the wall was full of hoops. He quickly got bored with that. And then the door buzzer rang and Jack came bounding into the flat.

He blinked owlishly, “John...you cleaned.”

“So?” John retorted, sinking back into his office chair. 

“You make a new friend?”

“No.”

Something next door fell over. John ignored it. Jack grinned. 

“Still trying to scare her off?” He said a bit too loudly.

“No. Now it appears we are trying to drive each other to madness,” John ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The door shut on the other side. The girl was on her way out. Reaching for a pen, John doodled in the margins of his notes before looking back up at Jack.

“What?”

“You seem better, John,” Jack said softly. 

John kicked the basketball under his desk, and leveled a stare at the other man.

“You really want her gone?” Jack said, and raised a brow, “I’ve got just the thing.” He fished in his pocket and held out a CD.

“What is it?” John said suspiciously reaching out a hand. Jack held it back, “Want the basketball back first.”

John kicked it out from under the desk and took the CD. Setting it down and looking up at Jack’s hovering form, he waited.

“Worst music ever,” Jack winked. 

“Stop that,” John mumbled, sliding on his specs to squint at the casing. It was blank. 

“I’ll just be off then, unless you want to come down to the pub?”

“Nah, thanks…” John took up doodling again lost in thought. 

When he realized what he had been drawing he shut the book quickly. The door opened and she was back. Must have been doing laundry downstairs. Perfect. He popped the disk into the CD player. 

Loud sounds came from the thing. It wasn’t music. It was a sort of… panting? Groaning? Moaning? 

Oh god. Oh. John’s face turned beet red, moving down from his cheeks and ears to his neck in great splotches. He fumbled with the device trying to shut it off. When it stopped he pitched the CD in the bin and headed off to bed. 

He failed to even notice the lack of any response across the wall in his plight of embarrassment.

\--xx--

Was he? She’d heard someone come over… But this was a lot...very… loud. Not quite what she would imagine from her grumpy neighbor. Not that she imagined.... anything. She felt her cheeks flush. The sound stopped abruptly and Rose stood stock still, not daring to breathe. Silence reigned for a while only the shuffling of feet to and fro. Not sure what to make of this she prepared for bed. As she lay waiting for sleep, an idea came to Rose. To get back at him for whatever...that was.  
She waited until dawn. The ass crack of dawn, before the sun poked through the horizon. She got out her box of noisy things, which was now, yes, a thing that she owned, and got ready for revenge. 

Rose banged together the cymbals and let out a shriek. Like a little girl. Frilly. Pink pig-tails. Slam. Shriek. Slam. Slam. Shriek. Serves him right for conspiring to get rid of her.  
The man on the other side hit his fist on the wall in irritation.

“Would you please stop screaming?!!?”

Unfortunately she got bored and her voice was very tired. She set the cymbals down and went to get a water glass. 

\--xx--

After cleaning all the dishes that had piled up John came to the realization that he had a blender. This was quite fantastic. Blenders were loud and lovely. He scavenged through his boxes and came upon some nuts and bolts. Perfect. Dumping them into the blender, John sat back and waited for the metal grinding and electrical shriek yet to come. Tardis walked in and immediately turned around. If he programmed her to talk, which he had no plans of, he was sure he’d have been called an idiot. 

“It’ll be great!” He yelled as she flicked her metallic tail and hid under the bed. 

Which was ultimately a smarter move than John made as the blender began to smoke and then the glass cracked from the bolts. With a gulp John dove for the floor as the glass shattered and metal and glass rained down over his kitchen, it flung from the blender and ricocheted over pots, pans, walls, and counters. “Shit,” John swore, then yelped as he ducked again and fell backwards into a bookcase. It crashed down on top of him, books and tools falling all over the tile floor. He heard the continued piano music from the girl and a lovely bought of laughter. He scowled. 

“You think it’s funny!”

\--xx--

Rose did indeed find it funny. “He’s insane…” she muttered under her breath through a wheeze of laughter. In her laughter her arm slipped and the lid for the keys shut on her fingers. She let out a squawk of pain and pulled her hands from the piano. The man next door began to laugh. Rose wasn’t sure if she should join him, this was ridiculous after all, or cry as her fingers now hurt and her ego was a bit bruised. 

But Rose, with her injured fingers was done. Time to end this madness, she thought as she finally opened the last move in box. Three weeks of this insanity, this lack of sleep. She would either win this last battle or she’d bloody kick him out herself. The lack of sleep wasn’t worth the price of this flat. 

She set up the little metronome, set the tempo to 100 bpm. She put it out on the top of the piano. Tomorrow she’d turn it on and go to work. She’d leave it on. She’d wait him out. 

\--xx--

It started in the morning. A ticking sound like a really loud clock. But regular and only one beat not the traditional tick then tock. A metronome then. He laughed,

“You’re going to have to try harder than that!” He heard her door slam shut as she left for the day. The metronome kept going. 

It was fine the first day. He just listened and there it went. Beat after beat as he hummed around the flat. Reading and working and building, he ignored the little tick in the back of his head. 

On the second day he got some noise cancelling headphones. He needed to sleep. Just a bit. It really wasn’t that bad he said to himself. 

On the third day his eyelid twitched in time with the metronome. 

Every waking second. He tried to read. He tried to pick up gears. He found himself blinking in time with the beats. Breathing in and out at 100 bpm. He felt the earth turn and fly through space at 100 little beats per minute. He was going to develop a tick. 

“Hey!” He shouted that evening. She didn’t respond.

“Please,” he grumbled, “please stop the ticking, I can’t stand it. It’s infernal.”

The metronome silenced, and John practically melted at the silence.

“So you’re ready to make an agreement?” The feminine voice asks, mirth sparkling in her tone.

John grimaced but nodded. Realizing she couldn’t see him he responded, “Fine.”

She separated the day into four 6 hour time slots, two for him to make noise and do his work and she’d be quiet as possible, and two for her to play piano and whatever the hell else she did. Against his better judgment John agreed to this insanity. There also seemed to be an unspoken rule they both agreed to without question, they wouldn’t communicate beyond this. Just to keep the peace and not annoy each other. John went to sleep at a normal time, the metronome and flat silent. Peace. 

\--xx--

The first shift was hers but all Rose wanted to do was sleep in peace. So that's just what she did, for a solid six hours. It was glorious.  
Shockingly the neighbor was pretty quiet at the start of his time. 

He was in deep concentration over his notes, the only sound a faint scribbling pencil. Though she had no way of knowing this, Rose was grateful for the ability to rest at long last. She brushed out her hair, though when she set down the brush she swore she heard a quick, “hush…” She rolled her eyes, but closed her cupboards quietly. She even shut the front door with great slowness.

Work was extraordinarily dull, but Rose was excited to give her first piano lesson that evening. After posting offers for lessons all around town, she’d been surprised by the lack of any interest until yesterday. With all the chaos of life at the flat, Rose also had requested meeting at her clients homes, so maybe that had been the deterrent. Neither the less, her newest friend was to be Grace Hawfield, 12 years old. Rose chewed her lip, and returned to sorting the new dress stock. 

When she arrived a few minutes late to her appointment, being held up by Walter again, Rose braced herself at the doorway of this posh home. Raising the heavy brass knocker on the door, she let it fall into the black wood. The door opened and a short woman in an apron exited. 

“Miss Rose Tyler?”

“Hi, yeah, tha’s me. Just Rose is fine,” Rose stammered, instantly intimidated by the view of the wide marble staircase inside. 

“Come this way,” the woman ushered. Rose walked quickly to keep up with the stout woman. 

“Who’re you then? Grace’s mum?” The woman affixed Rose an odd look. 

“I’m Glinda. Her mum employs me to run the estate,” she asserted reaching up to tighten the brown ponytail atop her head. Her movements were quick and almost robotic. 

“Oh,” Rose squeaked, “Sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glinda said, “If you’re very lucky, you won’t run into Ms. Hawfield for some time. She likes her privacy.”

Rose decided not to comment on this and came to a stop, nearly running into Glinda without realizing she’d halted. 

“That’s Miss Grace,” Glinda pointed across the room to a girl curled up on a veranda, her nose buried in a book. “She doesn’t usually take well to strangers. She’ll warm though.” Glinda turned as if to leave, and Rose swore she heard her mutter, “Unlike her mother.”

Glinda stopped now facing away, “You have the hour. You will be paid at the end of each session.”

“Okay,” Rose hugged herself in her dark blue vest she’d worn to look professional. As she crossed the great room to get to Grace, she noted the beautiful grand piano, visible through the archway now, in the second half of the room. Oh, she’d give an arm and a leg for that, Rose thought as she shuffled past the arch and to the bay window. Grace had yet to look up, but as soon as Rose sat next to her, her eyes were met by those of Grace. And it was obvious this was no ordinary job. Grace’s ice blue eyes bore into Rose’s own eyes but they were just slightly off, as if she couldn’t make eye contact if she wanted to. As she glanced down, Rose noted the book was braille. Grace was blind. 

“You can leave if you like,” Grace said, still looking/not looking at Rose, “They’ll still pay you.”

“D’ most of your teachers leave when they meet you?”

“Some.”

“Well, ‘m not them.”

Grace tilted her head, “No, you don’t talk like them.”

Rose flushed, there was that cockney again, making her sound less educated. Mind just cuz she hadn’t gotten her A levels, didn’t mean she wasn’t smart. 

“Not posh enough for you?” Rose did her best impression of the queen’s proper English. She was rewarded when Grace cracked a smile. 

“That was bad,” she said but didn’t stop smiling. 

“Miss Hawfield--”

“You can call me Grace.”

“Grace, if you’re willing, I’d love to teach you,” Rose said softly, and waited for Grace to reply.

“We’ll start on a temporary basis,” Grace declared and stood, pulling her cane from the seat cushion. She set down her book and stood. Rose walked with her to the piano and Grace sat unceremoniously down on the chair, leaning her cane against the side of the grand. 

“So how far did you get?” Rose enquired.

“Well. We worked on showing me keys based on spacing and sound. But every time I had to change an octave I’d end up hitting the wrong spots because, well, I’ve gone blind. The next two left before we got started and the last tried to teach me by moving my hands for me.”

Rose frowned. 

“Well. Lets try this, first, you are going to show me what you know. Then we’ll work from that.”

Grace played cautiously, her fingers shook through a rendition of jingle bells. It was halting and slow, but she didn’t miss a note. And though she couldn’t see it, Rose beamed at her. 

“Good, we need to work on fluidity, but you’re better’n I woulda been at your age,” Rose said.

“Okay. I don’t believe you, but I’ll let you try.”

Rose was nothing if not stubborn, so for the next hour she worked Grace, occasionally adjusting her fingers when they slipped from the right keys. When Grace could render the song more smoothly with building muscle memory Rose stopped for the day.

“Is’t okay if I come back next week?” She said as she rose and gathered up her bag. Grace sat at the piano bench, still unmoved. 

“Yeah,” Grace agreed, “It’s okay.”

Rose caught the tube and made her way up to the flat, her hours had gone and come again in her absence. With time to be noisy in her own flat, she cleaned and make some toast, catching up on Eastenders, she was doing well until the man tried to say something to which she took out her egg timer and let it ring; their agreed upon signal that it was still their particular time, or that the times switched. 

When it ended, Rose played a few tunes on her piano before heading off to bed. Despite her busy day, she felt better than she had in weeks. At the least better rested.  
She woke early to the sound of metal scraping and the some machine whirring and running. Though it was now his hours, so Rose couldn't complain much. At least not out loud.  
Later in the day with her turn drawing to a close, she rushed her way through a version of Fur Elise that she wanted to practice with Grace next week. It was beautiful and enough to get her mothers attention, without being too complex. As the man’s timer rang Rose raced faster, not pausing to shout, “Just another minute!” Her fingers danced faster. The beeping grew louder and she stopped with a sigh. If she wanted her time, she’d have to respect his. With the day off, Rose picked up her dog eared romance book and moved herself to the bed, the comfiest seating location in the room. Listening to the scrape of chalk and the muttering of equations, Rose was out of focus, the characters in her book still on part three of hating each other and not quite ready for the whole steamy romance part yet, she found her eyes drifting shut as she was lulled into an afternoon nap.


	5. R.E.S.P.E.C.T (Find Out What It Means To Me)

John hummed while he worked, free to move about and make noise, at long last. The problem was this: he'd be doing something and have to stop. As one whose creative process came and went, John was always thrown off and irate when the little egg timer next door told him his turn was over. As such, he felt he was becoming domesticated. John shuttered.  
Picking up his blow torch he melted a bit of metal hanging of the edge of the prototype. His welders mask slipping down his forehead. It was best not to think about it and make due. She'd leave eventually. They all did in the end. 

The time buzzed and John ignored it. When the piano cacophony kicked in he set down the torch and peeled off the mask. So much for that. He removed his plimsolls, after finding out yesterday that they’d made enough noise to cause the woman next door to keep her alarm running at him. So barefoot he made his way across the flat, and pulled out his whiteboard. It was much quieter and he found he could use it without complaint. When still the noise didn't halt he realized his laundry was still running.  


“Seriously?” He asked the empty air. He stopped the machine, and the blasted bleeping ended. And for the next six hours the girl had reign. John picked up a book, sliding on his old slippers and sat on his couch. The couch was actually an old planes jump seat, and had a slight tear running down the side. Jack kept begging him to redecorate and get rid of it. But it was ridiculously comfortable. He surveyed his flat, tools scattered across both desks, book shelves full to bursting, the plant he'd tried to keep alive but failed, he hadn't looked around in awhile, focus so driven on the work. Jack was right too, it was cleaner than the last time he'd given it a good gander. Maybe his neighbor was good for something.  


John tucked his foot under his leg and began reading, blocking out the admittedly not awful piano background music. He set his own timer for when he was free to move and get back to work again. 

At his next turn he believed he'd forced her to stop showering. To which he heard, “'ve still soap in my hair!?!” Cried out into the void. John grinned madly as he let the timer run until the water stopped. She wasn't as quiet this go around, but it was worth it. 

It was late night when he went out, tugging on his long brown overcoat. His walk took him far around the flats to a park, where he sat on a bench and looked up. Most of the stars were dim, the light pollution from London fogging up the sky. John scooped up a smooth stone from the ground turning it over in his hands. But John still looked up in spite of the light, imaging world beyond this one, up and far away. His converse clad feet swung under the bench, brushing the earth. His hands were shoved in his pockets, smooth stone still twirling in one, and his breath fogged the cool night air. His mind was a million miles from this place, coasting on some grandiose adventure in space. The siren of a fire truck broke John's daydreaming, and he stood, resuming his walk. He slipped a fiver in a homeless man's bag on his way out of the park, and righted a kicked over 'no littering’ sign. As the blackness was gobbled up by sunlight, John passed by an unfortunate scene. A tall man with blonde hair being held at gunpoint down an alley. 

It didn't occur to John to keep walking. He was unarmed and alone, but it didn't stop him from walking down the alleyway to the two men at it's end. 

“That's not a good idea.” He stated all the bravado behind those words he could muster. 

“Piss off. Not yet business mate,” the mugger growled not looking away from his victim. The man in question just flattened against the wall, breathing quickly. 

“You're harming an innocent man for money. On my street. On my planet. Makes it my business,” John's hands were in his coat pockets, oh so casual, as he leaned against the wall.  
The robber turned his head to John, sizing up the threat before laughing at the skinny bloke with too much hair product. 

“I'll take yet moneys too, 'f yet offr'n,” he grinned revealing a lack of several teeth in his wide mouth. 

“Won't be necessary, because you're going to leave,” John stated, not breaking eye contact with the man. 

“Not likely.”

“I don't do second chances,” John said, “this is your warning.”

The man laughed, his gummy grin nearly invisible in the cloak of night. 

John shrugged, “I did warn you.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocketed and pitched the rock up. Both he and the two men followed it with their eyes, where above on a balcony was a series of potted plants. One was knocked off balance and fell on the robbers head. He fell like a sack of potatoes. 

“You have a mobile?” John asked the shaken victim. 

“Errr...yeah.”

“Call the cops, I trust you can take it from here.” John turned to walk out the alley. 

“Wait...who are you? What just...how did..?”

John smiled enigmatically and walked off without answering. His heart still racing with adrenaline, he clamored up the stairs. For a moment he almost knocked on the wall, needing to share his nights antics with someone. 

But then. It was her time. The piano started up, Beethoven this time. Moonlight Sonata. As John could hear it sounded technically accurate. But there was a certain hollowness to the way she played, as if she'd never really been dancing in the moonlight. 

John shook his head, back to the books before he started to get sentimental or involved. 

Tardis peered around the corner, her deep blue eyes lit with LEDs. She curled up at John's feet, her gears wheezing. It might have been a purr had she been alive. John knelt down and stroked her metallic body, the joints in it warm under his fingers. She was a marvel. He'd spent weeks creating her, in a fit of excitement. 

Afterward he was simultaneously awed and horrified at the implications of what he had done. So much so that he burned every copy of his notes. He always hand wrote first, after his first TARDIS, a computer algorithm that was nearly stolen half a dozen times. Granted the damn thing had stolen from him all manner of social life, as his family complained about during the year he spent building it. 

It was very profitable too. But John just let it collect into an account he never looked at and carried on. Tardis rumbled beneath his ministrations and he searched the kitchen for her oil, carefully pouring it into her dish that read, “Cats Cream”. Well...she wasn't a cat per say though John. He wasn't one whose want a cat anyway. Messy things. Tardis required fuel in the form of corn oil and output earth friendly fumes. Very effective and efficient. . Plus, she’d live as long as he remembered to buy oil.  
\--xx--  
Jackie called Rose early that morning as Rose sat with her foam keyboard at her folding table. Her fingers stroking the fake keys in soundless taps. From next door she was listening to a programme on 'electric and fluid quantum mechanics’ and presumed it must be in another language for all she understood of it. 

Which is why Rose couldn't take the call and let it go to voicemail. With her phone on silent it was as if she were at work. It was fine, her mum would understand. Her timer blared as the man's show ended and Rose rolled up her flat keyboard moving to the piano. Securing her hair back with a clip she prepared herself to begin. She'd been working on Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 20. Some of the movements we're tricky, and the sudden shift from dark to joyous always threw her for a loop. 

\--xx--

John heard her begin one of Mozart's most emotional pieces, her fingers hitting the right keys at the right times but it was packing something. And for once he really couldn't stop himself.  
“Hey,” he called, “you're--” she played one key loudly and waited until he stopped speaking. 

“I know I'm breaking out little agree--” the single key struck again.

“Listen. You play Mozart well, but you're lacking a certain...pull.”

“I'm what?!” She crossly yelled at the him.

“The piece you're playing, Piano Concerto No. 20, it's a deeply emotional dark showcase, until the final D Major finale. You are very technically accurate, but the piece is meant to feel like a dance with despair, an ending that recognized the darkness of life then laughed in its face.”

“Was that s'posed to be impressive? And how'd you know so much about piano anyways?”

“I like to know a bit about everything,” John retorted, “and yeah I am impressive.” The girl snorted at that. 

“I just had to let you know, you're doing it wrong.”

“I can play with emotion!” She snapped back, and he swore he could feel the glower through the wall.

“Fine then. Show me.” 

\--xx--

The nerve of the man! Claiming she couldn't play with passion. It was just...rude. So what if she'd been a little stiff lately, it was easier that way, to bury some things that music brought to the surface. Rose cracked her fingers and set her mouth in a line. He wanted emotion, she'd bring it. She placed her fingers on the keys and began, the sorrowful music drifting into the air.

“More flow, you need to lament the loss,” he called. 

Rose rolled her shoulders back and tried to stop focusing on every key and every note. 

“Give it some fire, you're angry, the world has not been kind!”

And no it had not, particularly not her love life nor the lottery of birth nor the death of her father. And most certainly not in her ex-boyfriend. And it snapped. She stopped thinking about the keys and notes and the movements. All Rose thought was that her pain should bleed onto the keys, just for a bit, just so she wasn't alone in feeling.

“That's...yeah... good,” the voice said laden with emotion, but Rose was beyond hearing him now. The dark somber music sung through her veins and poured out her fingertips. A silent few tears trickled down her cheeks. 

“Now hope.” Came the voice, “Hope is a wonderful emotion. Let it pull you back.” His voice was quiet subdued. 

And Rose hoped, she hoped to travel, to dance, to fall in love. The tired act of music looked at death and knew it was coming, stuck out its tongue at the devil and danced away with a smile. Because life was worth it, because it was alive with song and body and feeling. Rose let her body join her fingers in movement over the piano, her hair falling into her eyes as the clip lost its grip from the movement. And after the final note, silence hung between the flats like the air after a storm, full of spent energy. 

Rose slid down from the piano bench to the floor, catching her ragged breaths that filled the air. 

“'aven't played like that in a long time,” she licked her dry lips. 

“It was beautiful,” his voice was close to the wall, as if he was right against it. Maybe he was.

“Thank you,” Rose replied, and she shuffled over to the wall, leaning her back against it.

“Really though, where did you learn about piano?”

“My father was a big fan of opera music,” Rose heard the faint smile in his voice and smiled back. 

“So, what do you do over there? You said you invent?”

“Yes, all sorts of things really. A few computer programs, robotics, sonics, I dabble.”

“Explains some of the strange noises.”

“Oi, like you can talk,” he replies, managing to sound indignant and amused at once, “so are you a pianist then?”

“'m trying to be. Rubbish at concerts though, the judging makes me slip up,” Rose doesn't add that they remind her of how she ended up learning piano so we'll, or the man who went with that learning. “Mostly I work in a shop. Just started giving lessons too.” 

“I think that you'd be amazing, if how you can play and did play tonight is any indication.” He nods to himself reassuringly. But John realizes she can't see him, yet again. 

“Thanks…” Rose paused before she continued, “so what project are you working in now?” 

“Bit more of a personal one, not marketable or anything. It's ...well it's like a screwdriver but sonic.”

“A what? Who looks a screwdriver and thinks...wow this could be more sonic?”

“I do!” John ruffles a hand through his hair, sending the chaotic strands up higher. “It’d be able to open all manner of locks by changing the vibrational frequency of the molecular particles in the metal. And if done properly could access a number of frequencies and wavelengths imperceptible by the human senses but capable of causing a number of effects.”

“So...you could like change someone's TV channel from your flat?”

“Wellll yes, but I was thinking it could several and rebind molecular bonds of multiple materials from metals to skin. Could be very useful. Or dangerous.”

“Or you could just be putting up a lot of cabinets.”

“Or that.”

Rose leaned her head back against the wall. 

“So…” she asked, “what do you look like?” 

John had the opportunity to tell the truth, he glanced at his reflection, blinking owlishly back at him from the metal backed bookshelf. But where was the fun in that? It wasn't likely they'd ever meet...so why not have a bit of a lark. 

“I'm ginger.” He declared. He'd always wanted to be ginger. “And...tall.” His height was a bit average but ehh… that enough detail…”And I wear bow ties. Bow ties are cool.”

John wasn’t sure where that came from, some other life probably. And he wouldn't normally ask but now he was curious.

“And you? What do you look like?” 

“I'm...just sort of average. Hairs sort of brown.” Rose isn't sure why she lies, or rather she tells the truth of how her hair would be if she didn't bleach it every month. Maybe she just doesn't want to be recognized on the streets. 

“So how come sometimes you stay in your flat for days?”

“I get focused. Forget about all the domestic stuff and I work.” As if sensing her trepidation he adds, “'s'okay I've got a friend, Jack, he checks on me from time to time.”  
“Sounds lonely,” Rose murmured, turning her head so her ear pressed against the wall. 

“It's…” John trailed off because she was not wrong it was just more complicated than that. It's not that he wanted to be lonely per se… It’s just everyone in his life had left it at some point or another. He searched to fill the silence, ”Well, I am alone… everyone’s…gone...”

“There’s me,” Rose wasn’t sure why she offered that but his voice was so soft that she wanted nothing more than to grip his hand and ground him. No one should be all alone. 

“Yeah?” he replied, voice nearly a whisper.

“Yeah,” Rose said, heart pounding in her ears.

“...yeah,” John sayed, “Well, now I've got a neighbor to talk to. It's not so bad, talking like this, without seeing.”

Rose frowned thinking that it's a bit sad, but all the same she said, “It's better with two. And yeah, not seeing you...it's like when you're blind, all your other senses are stronger to make up for it.”

“Exactly. Makes it easier to hear and listen. And trust me I hear everything.”

“Everything?” Rose spluttered, but that means…

“Your shower singing is quiet the lovely alarm in the morning.”

“Oh no…” Rose flushed red. 

“Oh yes. Also, just a small pointer, that Aretha Franklin song, it's R-E-S-P-E-C-T not R-E-S-P-E-T-C.”

“Yeah, R-E-S-P-E-T-C,” Rose sang obliviously.

“Noo, it's C-T not T-C,” John shook his head but he knows he's grinning daftly now. 

“R-E-S-P-E-T-C!” He was not sure if she was teasing or serious so he continued trying.

“It's respect not respetkeh. That's just nonsensical…” he chuckled. 

On the other side of the wall a full laugh sounded through the all and he was still not sure if she knew she was wrong but he couldn't hold back the laughter bubbling out his throat. John realized he's had no idea why he didn't want to hear this sound from her sooner, it's so joyous and alive. 

Two people on either side of a wall were dissolved in laughter, the kind that leads to tears and a dull ache in ones cheeks.


	6. Your Name (Is Like Honey On My Lips)

That morning he heard her getting ready to leave. But there was a pause in the noise. 

“Hey, you,” she called, “what should I call you anyway?”

John almost said his name, but it's so boring, and he didn't want to be boring. 

“I'm the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?”

John chuckled, “Just the Doctor. The genuine article you might say.”

“Nobody's just called the Doctor, it's not a name.”

“Well, no, but it's a sort of nickname. What's yours by the way?”

Rose paused, this Doctor wasn't going to give out his real name than she wouldn't either. 

“Bad Wolf.”

“Bad Wolf?”

“It was my stage name in school for concerts,” Rose flushed, it wasn't the greatest name. Maybe she should have just gone with her actual name…

“My name's--”

“Nah, you are now Bad Wolf.”

\--xx--

When Jack entered John's flat he was a little floored. It was clean still which was odd. The front window was open, letting in the afternoon breeze and ruffling the dark blue curtains. But more odd than that was the man himself, who was whistling as he pieced together tiny metal components with forceps under a magnifying glass. John set the instrument down. 

“Hello,” he said spinning around in his chair.

Staring Jack took a cautious step forward, “John, what happened? Did you finally go out? Meet someone?” 

John stood and danced around Jack, rummaging in a box behind him, “Well yes actually but that's not the interesting…” John paused and located a gadget. “Ooo yes.”

“I'd love to hear these words under different circumstances but we've got to talk about this John.” 

John stopped and turned to Jack, “Not going to happen. And don't think I've forgotten about that CD.”

Jack smirked and winked, “Anytime.”

“Oh, don't start…” John moved the gadget to his mouth to look for something else hidden amid his shelves. 

“Hard not to when you keep putting things in your mouth like that Doctor Smith.”

“Mm noth uoing fifhs foth foo,” John tried to speak around the round metal object. 

“Yeah that didn't help.” 

John rolled his eyes and spat out the metal. 

“I said, I'm not doing this for you.”

“Ah.”

“Well. Moving on,” John said, “Went for a walk the other night. Very nice. Bit of stargazing. Bit of rock collecting. Found some granite it came in handy. Stopped a mugging. All in all molto bene.”

“I'd say I was surprised, but I've known you too long. And you said the going out wasn't the interesting part.”

“Did I?” John scrunched up his face, brows furrowed. “Nahh.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I made a friend.”

“You made a friend? On your walk?” 

“No, with my neighbor,” John smiled recalling their conversation from yesterday. 

“You met her?” Jack sounded way too enthused for John's liking. 

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You talked to her? Does this mean you're on speaking terms now?”

“Yes. We talked. It was nice.”

And Jack decided not to tease, his friend was finally moving forward, even a slight bit. He didn't want to push the man. 

“So what's her name?” 

“Err… we decided not to use real names. Bit of distance.” John felt his neck flush a bit.

“Oh,” Jack's eyebrows rose, “So what's her code name? And what's yours?”

“Ah. Well, I'm the Doctor, obviously,” John gestured toward the wall, on which hung his three doctorates, gathering dust near the window. “She's...Bad Wolf. Something to do with a stage name.”

“So, can I call you Doc? And what is she a stripper?”

“No. And also, No!” John threw a crumpled bit of paper at Jack. “She's a pianist.”

Jack took out his mobile, “So we could look her up.”

“No, or well. You can, but I'd like to keep it the way it is.”

“What, so you don't have to open up?”

“I'm open,” John crossed his arms, glowering at Jack. 

“As a deadbolt.” 

“Oi,” John grumbled, turning and putting down his findings on his desk. 

“Alright, John, whatever you say,” Jack held his hands up in surrender. 

“Well, you've seen I'm fine,” John remarked, carding his hand through his hair. 

“No, you're actually good. You're not wallowing. It's unnerving,” Jack replied, taking a seat on the jump seat. 

“I. Am. Fine.” John stated him down. 

“See Doc, I think you are. You haven't been for the past five years, but here we are.”

John swallowed thickly, and looked away blinking rapidly. “I won't push,” Jack placated, “But whatever is making you happy, let it. Don't push it away.”

John didn't reply, only tightened his jaw and turned away.

Silence fell over the flat. 

“So, running the vigilante routine?” Jack spoke breaking the tension. 

“No,” John replied finally turning back to face Jack and resume conversation. “Just doing what’s right.”

“Right, so, you’re not acting like you’ve taken the old job with UNIT back,” Jack raised his eyebrows and picked up John’s tea mug, decked out in the organic synthesis of caffeine on the side. “Fine...fine.”

John finally allowed himself to really look at his friend. Jack, for once, was not wearing his great overcoat, he wasn’t full up of cocky swagger, and was rather subdued.  
“So… how are you?”

Jack stopped fiddling with the cup and his lips parted as he met John’s eyes. 

“Since when did you ask me how I’m doing?”

“I do!” John protested, throwing his hands up and out from inside his pinstripe pockets. John reflected briefly. He asked...no wait. 

“You don’t John. You haven’t in years.”

“Jack...I…”

“It’s fine Doc. It’s not who you are,” he looked down at his palms no longer moving much. John crossed from behind his desk and into Jack’s space.

“I’m sorry.” He laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed. Letting his hand fall, John moved past Jack and into the kitchen. He opened up the fridge and brought out a couple beers. He handed one to Jack and sat down next to him on the jump seat. They drank in compatible silence as the sun set on London.

Later that evening, Jack finally left, and John went back to working on his sonic development. Fully clad in a lead chest plate and boots, he lumbered through the flat like a stoned bear. Reasoning it was necessary to avoid radiation from his attempt at adding radio-graphic abilities to the sonic ones, he cursed the idea every time he knocked something over. Bad Wolf would be back soon. He grinned a bit. As much as she was making noise and disrupting him, it was nice, to have a bit of company. He began working on his chalkboard and frowned at himself as he found he was doodling a lovely flower over his mathematical equations. He erased it quickly.

Tardis appeared from under the jump seat, reflexively licking her front paw and scraping it over her ear. 

“Company other than you of course…” John crooned, scratching Tardis’ obsidian coat. Her glowing blue eyes shut and she rumbled. 

The door opened on the other side and John started and fell over the heavy lead cheat plate clanging on the ground. Tardis let out a vroop and scuttled back under the jump seat. 

“Doctor?” Bad Wolf called, her voice laced with concern. 

“'m fine,” he wheezed. 

“Wot was tha’?” She replied voice louder as she approached the wall and set something down on the counter. 

“I was,” the Doctor winced as he stood, “messing with radiography, had to wear the vest.”

“You were taking X-Rays? And what was that noise after you fell?”

“Oh that was my cat.”

“Didn't sound like a cat.”

“Doesn't feel like a cat either.”

“What?”

“She's an auton. A robot. Sort of. She was alive once. Still alive technically. Sort of. Well. I say alive. Wellll. I mean.”

“Doctor?”

“Hmmm?”

“Oh yes, I'm good. How are you?”

She smiled at the wall, “Better now. So your cat robot makes a sound like a car with bad brakes?”

“Uhm. Yes?” John squeaked. 

“Might want ta work on tha’,” Bad Wolf's voice was full of mirth. John pulled off the heavy vest and set it on the jumpseat. He walked over to the wall.

“She's one of a kind. I'll never replicate her,” he missed, running his hand over the unadorned section of wall in front of his face. 

“Why's that?”

“She's...got a sort of consciousness. From a cat. Well. What was a cat. I found a cat in the alley on the way home. She'd been hit by a car, looked so young. And I had this...idea about connecting neural networks into a data frame. I mean it's the same, just electric impulses built in a specific pattern and if I could replicate an empty neural structure all I would need to do would find a way to transfer the pattern across. So I worked on that. Didn't sleep for five days. And shockingly it worked. It took about six months to fully complete her body and wiring.”

“You're mad!” The wolf girl called, sounding lost and mystified. 

“Anyway, after I realized what I'd done. What it could mean. So I burned everything. But I couldn't get rid of her. She's…” he trailed off unable to explain.

“Stole your heart like any pet, yeah?” 

It's the quiet simplicity if her explanation that got him. As much as he would have loved to claim it's complexity, his obligation as her creator, the life she harbored in that steel frame,and the prospect of someone finding her and doing creating something horrible with his technology, he could not deny that Bad Wolf was right. Tardis leapt into his life with her sparkling blue eyes and stolen his will to get rid of something so dangerous. He got the sudden feeling that, if he let her, the girl next door might do the same. 

\--xx--

It was late that evening, maybe a week or so after they’d started talking when Rose realized this is the first time she’s felt safe with a guy since the fiasco before her moving. When she realized she was for once happy. After all, she wasn’t returning to an empty house anymore. Maybe this is why people always got so excited to have someone to go home to. The Doctor wasn’t a physical presence, but Rose felt she was getting to know him, an better than she’d known some of the friends she’d had for years. And finally she didn’t feel like pulling a guy at the club with Shireen or shredding up numbers on receipts and coffee cups out of fear. Not having to worry about what she looked like or what he did when she wasn’t there was liberating. Which is why Grace’s question that day startled her so much. 

“So Miss Rose… are you married?”

Rose laughed slightly, “No. move your thumb over to G...there you go.” Grace complied, her fingers stumbling through the first few bars of Fur Elise. 

“My mom was married, but she left him,” Grace mumbled, “I always thought she’d be nicer if she were married. Any you’re so nice I thought…”

Rose blushed slightly, “‘M only 23.”

“Oh. Are you dating anyone?”

For some bizarre reason she felt compelled to say yes. Remaining unable to lie though, she simply sighs. “From the top Grace.”

“Sorry,” Grace stammers her hands coming to rest in her lap. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” Rose focused on the ground to the right of the piano. Grace’s perfect blonde ringlets brush her arm as she half hugs Rose. Rose returned the gesture knowing that a smile would go unnoticed. “That’s all for today, keep practicing.” Rose stood, brushing Grace’s hair back.

“Good-bye,” Grace called softly closing the piano. Her mother would be back soon and she hated the smallest hair out of place. Rose grabbed her bag and made her way to the tube. A man with a little sign, barefoot and hunched over half a sandwich wished her positive vibrations on the street. She hoped that worked out for her. 

For some reason, Rose refused to admit the truth to herself, she found herself watching the men she passed on the street, eyes peeled for a ginger with a bow tie. She smiled at a man with auburn hair and turned away awkwardly when she realized his green shirt was open at the neck. She sat down on the tube and was eye level with a bright yellow bowtie, but upon looking up realized the man in question was about 80, and while adorable, really not who she was looking for. Skittering to a stop outside the chippy on her block she nearly ran into a tall man, and he flirted with her, complimenting her smile and shirt. But his hair was blonde and he was wearing a band t-shirt, and Rose couldn’t drive away the frustrating and charming neighbor from her thoughts. 

She even blathered it all out to Jackie on the phone. Jackie just told her not to get ‘airs’ from working with the rich and crushing on some doctor type.

\--xx-- 

In the windy late afternoon John ambled down the past the shops. His light blue tie flapping in his face as he lifted the knock on Jack’s boat home. 

The man in question flung open the door, “Doc! C’mon in!” John flailed his arms as he was pulled unwittingly over the threshold. 

“Big news Doc!” Jack’s broad straight-toothed grin shown in John’s face. Uncomfortable with the proximity, John took a step back. 

“What?”

“Remember that guy I was telling you about a few weeks back?”

“Which one?” John raised his brow and crossed his arms. 

“Hey!” Jack’s reply was indignant. “The one with the amazin’ arse.”

“That excludes almost none of them.”

“Fair point,” Jack said, conceding the argument. “His name is Ianto and he is fantastic. He does this thing with ---”

“I don’t want to know,” John replied, holding up his palms.

“He had me three times John! Three! Th--”

“Look I’m happy for you, I am, but please spare me the details,” John rolled his eyes at Jack’s exuberance. They walked further into the flat and sat at the green wooden table. Realizing his friend’s reluctance on all things sexual, Jack decided to torment him just a bit more.

“You just need a good shag.”

“Oh really? You an expert or something?” John instantly regretted his words. Jack smirked in reply. “Don’t answer that.”

“So how are things with the neighbor? Finally get over your hate-love phase and move on the the shagging yet?”

“Jack!” He exclaimed. “It’s not like that. We’re… friendlier I guess.”

“How friendly?”

“Jack.” His voice dipped into a bit of a growl. He’d almost forgotten it could do that. 

“Feel free to say my name like that anytime you want,” Jack winked and blew John an air kiss. 

“I’d threaten you but you’d probably like that too.”

“Most definitely,” the twinkle in his eye said he rather hoped John would give in an attempt it anyway. John resolved not to give him the satisfaction. 

“We have an understanding. We talk. She’s actually quite good at piano.”

“So you haven’t met her? It this a new thing? Like silent dating? I just met this girl followed her out to her car and she went down--”

“No, I haven’t met her. I don’t plan to either.”

“Doc, are you even alive? Can I take your pulse?”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“No. Can you not…” Jack paused briefly, “Dance?” he settled on.

John bristled, “I can dance!” His face heated and he swallowed. An awkward silence descended as the men eyed each other over the table. 

“So was this the only thing you called for?” John redirected the conversation. Disappointed but not discouraged Jack turned with a hand wave. John followed. 

“You won’t like this but I need your expertise on this,” Jack handed over a few documents that were scattered on the desk. 

With a quick wrist flick John slid the black glasses over his eyes and paced as he read. When he finished he set the papers down.

“You want me to assess your UNIT scavenging plan.” Johns glasses slid down his nose as his brows narrowed over them. 

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“Understatement.”

“Listen. I know you don’t want anything to do with UNIT or the military anymore, I do, but this is a rescue operation. No one injured no one killed sort of mission.”  
John sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you need from me?”

“I just need you to figure out how to draw attention away from point B,” Jack gestured at the map page, “So we can get the guys out and into the plane.”

“You shouldn’t get them out there,” John said, “too many outposts too open, see all this,” he pointed, “Indicates hills. Not the greatest cover but if you can, it’s better than the plain.”

“Plane can’t land there.”

“You’d be better off driving from there to a helicopter. Put defenses here, and there,” John marked the page with a pen.

“...Not bad. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t ask me to do this again Jack.”

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Jack turned back to the computer in the office and typed away rapidly. John left his flat and turned his coat collar up against the wind. 

Rose hummed as she made he way up the narrow steps on her side of the flat. Twisting her keys in the lock she bounded in, “Doctor?” She called.

The sound of something heavy being dropped echoed in her flat and she giggled. 

“Bad Wolf?” An inquiry for the ground sounded. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

“No I was just focused on making a few adjustments to Tardis’ paw, think she got it caught in a doorway.”

“I just wanted to let you know that my student is doing really good. And that Angie, from Henricks? She finally stopped stealing my lunch.”

“Yeah?” The Doctor replied, eyebrow quirked and smirk in place, “glad you finally added that wasabi to your sandwich?”

“Remind me to stay on your good side, Doctor,” Rose grinned tongue touching her teeth. “Wotcha makin’,” Rose inhaled, “smells amazin’.”

“Oh just some pasta…” The man replied, “I’d almost forgotten about it.”

“‘ll probably just try not to murder some toast again.”

“I…” John almost offered to bring some food over. But he didn’t want anything to change when their current arrangement was working so well. Talking to her would be enough. Anything else was too complicated. 

So instead he tried a new idea, “I could explain how to make it sometime.”

“Yeah?” Rose’s smile broadened, it was like he knew what she needed, just a helping hand. In a manner of speaking. 

“Course. We could have dinner together,” John decided not to look into the potential connotations of that. But she didn’t let him get away with it easily.

“Aww...our first date…”

The Doctor made a strangled noise.

“‘ll buy chips…” He breathed a sigh of relief and maybe the slightest bit of disappointment. 

“Glad you’re contributing something other than charm.”

“What? You think you’re so impressive.”

“I am so impressive,” John grinned like a loon. 

Rose heard the metallic vroop of his cat, “Dunno if your cat agrees with you…”

“Wellll,” John tugged on his ear, “can we really trust the cat’s opinion?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oi!”

“So Mr. Impressive Doctor, what did you do today?”

“Bit of this and that…” John began his typical evasion but paused, “repaired Tardis as you know. Bit of tuning on my sonic device. Went for a walk. Helped get a child out of tree.”

“You helped a kid out of a tree?”

“The building was on fire and he happened to escape out the window to a tree. I just coaxed him down.”

“Blimey. Who are you Batman?”

“Don’t be ridiculous…” The Doctor sniffed dramatically, “I’m much more of Clark Kent.”

“Oh, really? How do you figure?”

“Because Miss Wolf, I’m an alien disguised as a normal bloke. And, I dare say, out of this world,” he accompanied this with an impressive eyebrow wriggle that she unfortunately was not privy to. Rose peeled over in laughter, “You--” she tried to speak through bursts of giggles, “That--” She wiped a few tears from her eye, “was so bad.”

“Nah, best line I’ve ever come up with I think.”

Her infectious laughter drew him in, and they both sat, backs against the same wall, separated by a few inches of sheet rock and all the things they couldn’t see.


	7. I Get By (With A Little Help From My Friends)

They talked often, Rose began to realize and expect daily as she got off work late one evening. It had been a couple weeks and in that time she’d learned he had an unhealthy obsession with bananas and refused to accept that pluto was no longer a planet. “Just because it’s small doesn’t make it worth any less!” He’d said, as they shared two different types of wine, back to back. So when she shuffled in that evening she heard the faint scratch of the chalkboard and the soft hum of the washer she couldn’t help smiling to herself. 

The Doctor muttered under his breath as he worked, “If you take the vector of the tangent and find the coefficient...Multiply the co-factoral compound and the reaction rate…”  


Rose curled up on her bed, his soft mathematical estuary lulling her to sleep and dream of pleasant things. It was in this half dream state that she decided she wanted to keep him around. It wasn’t like either of her ex’s, the first was a controlling demanding man, the second a comfortable friend. No, she wanted to get wine drunk with him while the kids slept upstairs. And why her head was full of this nonsense over a man she hadn’t officially met or seen was beyond her. She blamed it on her sleep deprived brain. But Rose resolved to continue looking for him on the outside. After all he couldn’t blame her should the just happen to meet. 

So the next few days as she walked on her lunch break she surveyed the passerby’s for a bowtie. The choice was relatively uncommon amidst most the men she normally saw. It was a surprise when she did see one. A blue and white dotted on to be exact, paired with a button down and tweed jacket. He passed her in the opposite direction and she made a split second decision to follow him. He passed by a few stands before settling into a chair outside a cafe. Rose hastily pulled out a chair across the patio from him, facing the same direction so as to not stare at him. Contrary to her seating choice she decided she would need to stare at him to get his attention somehow. She looked down at her shoes, pink ballet flats, and back up, nervously biting her lip before turning around to stare down the man with the bowtie. He took out a book and carefully ripped out the last page shoving it in his pocket before he began reading. As if sensing something was off he looked up and saw her staring. He smiled briefly but turned around as to check if she were staring at someone behind him. 

Rose smiled at the action. She tried to mime a wall with people talking on either side of it. It was hard to tell if he understood as he made some sort of flapping motion with is own hands. So, she instead mimed playing the piano. A gesture he returned to her. Ah well. It’d be hard to mime inventing so she waited a moment to see what he would do. He pretended to drink a cup of tea and she repeated the motion back to him. They smiled at each other. He got up and walked into the cafe and Rose turned back around to her seat, feeling a bit out of sorts.

A waiter brought her a cup of tea and scone courtesy of the gentleman. Or so he said. Rose grinned, and asked for his pen and paper. She quickly scrawled a note and hoped she had the right man. 

When the bowtie man returned from inside the cafe the blonde girl had gone, which was slightly disappointing but not shocking. He returned to his forgotten book, but smiled when he saw what was inside, a handwritten note reading: 

“An ideal dinner date. 604 Brookplace Lane. 3rd floor. Tuesday. 6pm. One Rule: Shhh.”

 

Unable to contain and keep this to herself Rose found herself calling Donna and planning an outing for ice cream. Calling Jackie was a death wish and not in the cards at the moment.  
“Donna I think I have a date…” Rose said as she licked the dribbling ice cream from her wrist.

“You think you’ve got a date?”

“Well I don’t know if he’ll show up.”

“How can you not know?”

“Well this bloke was wearing a bowtie,” Rose passed as she saw the confused look on Donna’s face.

“Yeah and I’m wearing a hat, what’s that got to do with the walk for tea in the bag?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Wha-- no we aren’t doing this thing,” Rose declared, pulling a napkin along her sticky bubble gum flavored wrist. 

“You aren’t any fun!”

“Anyway...so remember my weird neighbor? The one making all the noise? Well…”

“I told you! I told you you would be dating him!”

“Well maybe. I’m not sure it’s him. But he did say he wore a bowtie.”

“For the record,” Donna bit off a chunk of ice lolly, “this will totally probably blow up in your face.”

“Or it could be great?” Rose pulled the sleeve of her jean jacket over the bangles on her wrist. 

“And I could be abducted by aliens on my wedding day,” Donna replied with a snort. 

Rose gave Donna a gentle push and tossed her used napkin in the bin. They walked the rest of the way around the park, stopping to watch some ducks at a pond. 

“You know, I think I’d like to be a bird,” Rose said wistfully propping her chin in her hand as she leaned against the little bridge over the water. 

“Ugh, no, imagine the smells. And the having to deal with feathers.”

“What’s wrong with feathers?” Rose wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, I’ll tell you…” Donna launched into a long and detailed monologue of celebrities who had feather pillows an ended up stabbed in the face due to the plumes and the singular resulting case of blindness.

“You do know you wouldn’t have tah worry about that as the bird though,” Rose argued, using her one hand to gesture to the waddling duck on the shore. 

“I still don’t like them. Wotcha want to be a bird for anyway?”

“I could fly. Go anywhere in the world free of charge. Away from everythin’ I’d ever been part of.”

“Oh Rose,” Donna pulled her into a side hug, that she returned but pulled back dry eyed for once. 

“Maybe I’ll go anyway Donna. Someday I’ll just get on one of those big jets and go. Australia. New York. Something bigger than just this.”

“Blimey. Maybe he’s done you some good.”

“Who?” Rose snapped back from the far away dreamy look she had.

“The crazy nutter you live next to.”

Rose didn’t say anything but smiled softly. She parted ways with Donna a bit past her street and made her way inside. 

\--xx--

The day passed slowly and The Doctor was either not home or suspiciously quiet. So by the time Rose left for work she hadn’t heard from him. Unable and unwilling to risk real cooking with her meager supplies and singular microwave/lack of real oven using ability, Rose stopped by the market on her way home from Henricks. 

“Hello, will this be all?” The Indian man smiled, his name tag read, ‘Ralph’.

“Yeah,” Rose said, chewing on the cuff of her sweatshirt before quickly pulling her hand down as she waited for him to ring up the items.

“The risotto is good,” The cashier said with a broad smile, teeth crooked but charming, “Especially with the four cheeses.”

“Yeah,” Rose replied, politely smiling back. 

“They made a new one,” He said holding up the second package, “Veal sausage.”

“I uh,” Rose paused, “Don’t think I’m quite ready for that one.”

“Suppose you’ll skip on the cow’s brain then too?”

“Marinated in pig’s blood I bet,” She tried to tease back, some of the awkwardness disappearing as she teased. 

“Ah, yes and left to ferment with a bit of tripe,” he was nodding and grinning at her now. 

“My weakness is gazpacho made with old rubber stoppers,” she joked, but paused as the smile fell of the man’s face and he awkwardly hummed and finished ringing her up silently. Her smile faded to a grimace, hands clutched on the sleeves of her sweatshirt. 

“14 pound 30 please.”

\--xx--

John’s nose was buried in a book, focusing on the molecular physics of light as both particle and wave when he was jolted from his work. For once not by the neighbor whose disruption he’d come not to loathe but in fact look forward to, but by something far more sinister. The blue phone hung in the kitchen was ringing.

“Ringing?” He stood, “How can you be ringing?” He hadn’t paid the phone bill in months, he never used the bloody landline anyway. “What am I supposed to do with a ringing phone?” He turned and asked the empty flat, Tardis being nowhere to be seen currently. 

He eyed the phone suspiciously but it just continued ringing.

With a heavy sigh he picked it up and held it a fair distance from his ear.

“Hello?”

“John I need your help,” the man on the line said.

“Jack?”

“Yes. I need you to bring me some cash.” Jack paced outside of a small restaurant. Inside a blonde woman with curled hair and a well cut suit jacket smiled at him.

“What? Why?”

“I’m on a date,” he paused and whispered conspiratorially into the phone, “and I forgot my wallet.”

“Call one of your other friends.”

“See about that...they think I’m with you.”

“Really?”

“Well...most of my ‘friends’ I have also slept with so…”

“Not helping your case Jack.”

“Listen I know you hate going out but please just bring me £40. I’ll pay you back.”

John ruffled his hair and tightened his grip on the phone, “Fine.” He hung the phone back up with a jolt and snatched up his wallet and keys. Fetching his long coat from the rack, he slammed the door on the way out. 

With a huff he crossed the street outside to avoid two women in some sort of tangle with a pram.

When he reached the restaurant twenty minutes later, he found Jack and the woman seated inside with a couple drinks. John entered and pulled out his wallet silently ready to hand it over. Jack saw him before he could drop it and flee, and he looked up.

“John!”

“Err..hello,” John smiled awkwardly at Jack and the woman. 

“Why don’t you stay for a drink?”

In that moment John realized he’d been set up. And this was all very quiet awkward. He could pull off a good flirt. But after that… they all wanted more than he could give. And he hadn’t been out in a long time. 

“This is Reinette,” Jack waved his hand at the well dressed woman on his right. John stood between them hand on his wallet in his pocket.

“Hello,” he said holding out his hand. He kissed the back of her hand, he had after all been raised a gentleman. And she was gorgeous.

“Bonjour mouisor,” she peered up at him through natural but thick lashes. 

“Oh, you’re French?”

“Yes,” her accent was slight but clearly polished. 

“Different planet that.” He sat across from them.

“I am not certain of your meaning,” she replied, “but I hope you do not mean it as an insult.”

“Oh no-no, just very different culture. Mind you not has a different as the Hi-Merimã of Brazil. Now those were some unique people.”

“Have you traveled much?”

“I used to travel a lot.”

“With your wife?”

John flinched and placed his hands back in his pockets. Jack cleared his throat. 

“John often travels alone.”

“A lonely angel…” Reinette mused. She flashed a bright smile at Jack.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that. He nearly gets himself killed every time he leaves London. Sometimes in London,” Jack winked at John as he said this. John scowled growing progressively more uncomfortable. 

“Might be worth the monsters,” Reinette laid a hand over John’s forearm. John’s eyes trailed up the hand to her face, she was staring intently. Tilting his head to the left John gestured across to the bar. 

“Do you know who that is?”

“No?” she responded, “should I?”

“Luis. He’s a Duke and hasn’t stopped looking at you once tonight.”

“Oh?” Her brows raised, and her gaze flicked to the Duke and lingered but fell back on John, “And why would I want a Duke over a worldly angel?”

“Because I have to go,” John seemed a bit reluctant, but ultimately he was saving her from himself. He was not at all worth the monsters. And she was so vibrant, he couldn’t pull her from her place, which he felt would be somehow important here. And not with him. He really couldn’t explain it. And she was far too interested in Jack or even the Duke. 

But Jack wasn’t having it.

“Reinette is in development. She makes social media applications and data systems for smartphones.”

John sighed at this. He really hoped they’d let everything drop but no. 

“She recently was on a project team that helped code three unique systems and owns all the patents.” Reinette beamed with pride at the compliments. Clearly she was smart. But also, John noted a bit self involved. And he’d be here all night unless he put a stop to it. 

“Listen,” he held up Jack’s mobile on the table, “This is a brilliant human invention. Saves all of us lots of time. A symbol of progress.” He turned to look directly at Reinette, “But it also leaves us less communicative than ever before. It acts as a crutch for natural memory and conversation. And I don’t condone the mindless entertainment it provides via social media.” His voice may have raised in volume and pitch a bit at the end there, but who was really paying attention?

They both looked up at him. He was standing again and they were slack jawed. Others in the establishment had turned to look and he felt his neck and face prickle. 

Nodding to Jack, he spun on his converse and let his long coat flare out behind him as he all but fled the restaurant. 

On his way back he rolled his eyes as he avoided running into a young man on his phone. His shoulder still hit the other man’s on the narrow street. 

“Watch yer feet mate!” the boy snarled.

“Learn to add progress and betterment to the human race. Mate.” John retorted. He almost dodged the fist that flew at his face. Almost.


	8. Don't Stop Me Now (I'm Having A Good Time)

With her bag of microwave dinners, Rose practically skipped on her way home. Which is where she nearly ran into a woman coming out of the building next to hers with a pram. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Rose said, quickly dodging the wheels, but ending up holding onto a handle to avoid falling. She met the eyes of the woman holding the pram who waved her off, 

“It’s fine…” She righted herself and the two separated heading opposite directions. If the woman had exited a minute earlier or later Rose would have run into the Doctor, but she didn’t.

So unassumingly she went upstairs in her building and set out her best flatware. Which was plastic. But nice plastic. Tossing the food in the microwave she hummed to herself and tossed the boxes off to the bin on the side of the counter. She didn’t hear anything next door. Which was hopefully a good sign. When a knock sounded on the door she jumped and flustered threw her towels and such into a cupboard in her panic. She shut the microwave and dashed to the door. 

At the door was the bow tie man holding a bouquet of daisies. And all was well, if it were roses she might’ve laughed at him. He went to speak but she shushed him and herded him inside, letting the door shut behind him.

She laughed a bit awkwardly and took the flowers, laying them inside a lamp as she had no vase. She mimed drinking again, to which the bow tied man toasted her with his own imaginary drink. She smiled and gestured for him to enter further into the flat and he dutifully placed his imaginary cup on the banister before doing so. Rose’s smile broadened at that. They sat down at her little table, where she poured them both some wine. She knocked on the wall and nodded enthusiastically to the man. He knocked on the table back and took a swig of wine, his face a bit confused. He moved his hands a lot as he looked around her little flat. He made another nonplussed face at her little kitchen. She was about to respond to that when the microwave went off. 

Rose served the bow tie man and herself the microwaved sausage and rice. He seemed a bit confused by the paper products and meal but ate with enthusiasm that she tried to match. His eyes met hers over the table and he leaned over it, perhaps to tell her something, perhaps to kiss her, and she leaned towards him.

And then next door she heard the door open and slam shut. And her eyes shot open.

“You’re not home?” she asked the bow tie man.

“No. I’m here?” He asked confused, body still leaned over the table. 

“You have to go,” Rose stood realizing his voice was not the one she had heard so many times before. 

“Go?” the man nervously straightened his bow tie. 

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake…” Rose repeated apologies as she rushed him out the front door and let if fall shut. She leaned her head against it and sunk down to the floor. Her heart racing in her chest, she clutched her hands tightly together. “I’m an idiot.”

“Hello?” The Doctor called across the wall.

“Where’d you go?”

He seemed to either not here or ignore her question. 

“Bad Wolf are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Rose licked her lips nervously, “I’m okay. The problem is on it’s way out.”

“Okay… You might be a little bit jeopardy friendly?”

“You went out?” Rose asked, nerves still jangled but easing over from the door towards the wall. 

On the other side, John wiped the blood off his nose, which was still slightly off kilter but not terribly. At least he didn’t think it was broken. 

“I shouldn’t have.” He responded with a frown. Stopping to pet Tardis as she wove around his ankles. At least the cat still liked him. “So I take it your night was not great?”

“No it was awful,” Rose wrinkled her nose. 

“Mine too,” The Doctor replied and Rose felt her heart warm in response. 

“Unlike the other night, a few weeks ago? That was…” Rose trailed off unsure of how far she could push this. He could run. And there wasn’t anything she could do to stop him for crushing their tentative new friendship.

“It was…” He sounded wistful as if he were dreaming.

“Good?” Rose ventured trepidation leaving a tremble in her voice.

“Good. Fantastic.” He cleared his throat and stated louder, “Excellent. Molto Bene!”

Rose giggled at his enthusiasm. Well that was solved, they were at the very least good neighbors. 

“Doctor, I-” “Ba-” They both stopped mid-word, wide eyed and waiting. 

“Well,” The Doctor said, tugging at his ear, “I just wanted to say that we’re sort of … friends now. We have a sort of…” He was burgundy red and unable to continue, not that Rose knew.  
“A kind of like relationship?” she asked, voice laced with fear and shaky.

“Sort-of,” John coughed to cover his discomfort at the term. He really shouldn’t, she should stay as far from him as distance would allow. But he just couldn’t stop himself. It had been so long since he’d met someone he wanted to keep around. “Would you… maybe like to see each other? You could er, come over?”

Rose was silent on her side, steps small but moving closer to the wall with every stride. 

“I’m sorry...I don’t…” He shouldn’t have said anything, John thought believing he’d mucked it all up before it began.

“No, no. I just,” Rose swallowed thickly. She’d been burned before, and badly, “I think we could maybe stay like this? With no dependance or...anything.” The dinner with the stranger had really fortified this opinion. Her own judgement with men was not to be trusted. 

“So together...separately?” John tilted his head, considering. To be honest with himself he really did like the idea. He was less likely to hurt her. To get her in danger. And he’d get to enjoy her company. 

“Together.” Rose lifted a palm and laid it on the wall. John did the same on the other side. “Separately.”

\--xx--

Rose left for her job at Henriks, spending the day folding socks and persuading teenagers to stop taking selfies with the mannequins. It was almost a relief to get off of work and head over to the Hawfields to practice with Grace. She called her mum Jackie on the way over, filling her in on the Doctor and his insanity. Jackie threatened to kill him if he hurt her, or if she stopped calling one day. Rose assured her she’d be alright, and that she had to go as she walked up the driveway of the Hawfield house.

She set her coat by the door and made her way into the great room, where, as usual for their meetings, Grace was hunched over a desk, on a large chair. Her fingers passing over the raised braille.

“Grace?”

“Oh. Rose,” Grace shut her book, carefully laying in a book mark with gold tassels. 

Rose padded further into the room and stopped at the piano bench, waiting for Grace to find her cane and make her way across the room. As she sat, Rose gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, letting her know where she was.

“Are you ready?” Rose asked.

“I suppose. Are we working more on Fur Elise? I’ve been practicing.”

“I think,” Rose said, opening the lid of the piano, “today we’re going to have some fun.”

“Are you certain?” Grace asked, brows raised. 

“Er…” Rose wrong her hands, “No. But I thought it’d be fun to learn some pop songs?”

Grace’s eyes narrowed at the middle left over Rose’s shoulder, “I didn’t know they had piano for that.”

Rose shifted, taking in the marble walls, the gold brandished chandelier and fixtures, “No… I don’t s’pose you would.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Grace crossed her arms.

“Nothing. I just want to show you this,” Rose said, playing a few bars of Aretha Franklin’s Respect and singing along. To her relief and embarrassment Grace laughed. 

Glinda, the maid, walked by with a head shake and a duster as Rose hummed out notes for Grace to find, puzzling together bits of NSYNC. 

When Rose packed up for the day, Glinda found her in the hall. “Be careful Miss… Grace’s mum won’t like any deviation from the classics.”

Rose’s wide sparkling eyes dimmed a bit, but she refuse to be hurt badly, “It won’t hurt anyone if she has a little fun with music that’s a little younger, a little easier.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Glinda sighed and gave Rose’s shoulder a pat, opening the front door and letting her out into the world. Ms. Cassandra O’Brien would be most displeased that her daughter was learning NSYNC rather than Beethoven. 

The walk home was chilly for fall, and Rose wrapped her coat tight around her waist. With the sun going down, she hopped the bus and wolfed down her ham sandwich. 

Rose hadn’t been home long, just putting her things away and getting ready for bed with the door across the wall opened and the Doctor started talking,

“Did you know, There are probably more than 100 billion galaxies in the cosmos. Each of those galaxies has between 10 million and a trillion stars in it. Visible matter in the Universe only accounts for about two per cent of its mass. We know there is more, because it has gravity. The visible matter is nowhere near enough to account for the gravitational pull we can see exerted on other galaxies. The other stuff is called “dark matter”, and there seems to be around six times as much as ordinary matter. To make matters even more confusing, the rest is something else called “dark energy”, which is needed to explain the apparent expansion of the Universe. Nobody knows what dark matter or dark energy is.”

“What’s with the science trivia?”

“Dunno, was just thinking.”

“It this how you’re always like?”

“No...sometimes I go on crazy spontaneous adventures. Last week I dug a sheep out of a pipeline running underneath Leary’s Farm using a bit of jiggery pokery.”

"Is that a technical term? Jiggery pokery?"

"Yes," The Doctor replied with a shoulder wriggle, "Why didn't you pass jiggery pokery?"

"Nah, I failed hullabaloo," Rose hummed, then squinted at the wall, “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand you.”

John smiled enigmatically. 

“Doctor?”

“Yup!” He popped the p with enthusiasm.

“You’re mad.”

“Oh completely. The Doctor is completely mad Bad Wolf. But I’ll have you know, the very best of us are.”

Rose giggled. 

“So tell me mad Doctor, about your adventures? Anymore Batman moments?”

He sighed, “I’m not Batman. I’m much cooler.”

“Whatever you say…” Rose said, as she pulled her dinner from the microwave.

“I used to travel a lot. Once I was in this sleepy village in Mayalsia, conversing with the locals, when they started reporting a series of missing children. All under the age of six. So with the help of Sarah Jane.” There was a pause there that Rose couldn’t help but notice sounded a bit like a choke. But he continued undeterred, “And we tracked one of these kids in the village to this hide away house. Broke a number of them out of that house and called the authorities.”

“Blimey. What was your job even?”

“Oh, bit of this and that.”

“Really?”

“Well there was the time I stopped this boat from crashing into the rocks of a fjord in Finland. Required a bit of time to figure out that the boat was not indeed controlled by the pre wired automatic system but a captain who owned a lot of stock in traditional boats. Anyway...way cooler than Batman.”

“See you keep sayin’ that like you’re impressive.”

“Oi, I’ll show you impressive,” he grumbled thumbing through the book at his feet. 

He heard her indignant snort through the wall as he picked up the sonic from the table and began adjusting some of the chip components. “Really though, what did you do?”

“I’ve always been an inventor...I just happen to get sidetracked quite a bit. I worked for this… government organization that helped people. It was called UNIT. They let me invent all kinds of things, in exchange for some assistance. Hence the sidetracking. All I wanted was a quiet life, believe it or not.”

“Nah, I think you’d’ve been bored…” Rose said, twirling her hair around her fingers as she took another bite of spaghetti. 

“See now, that’s just a scary level of observation…” The Doctor grinned as he stood an rummaged in his cabinet for another pin. The led just wasn’t going to stay in place. 

“I’m off to shower…” Rose added as she tossed her dish in the sink and left the main room. The Doctor kept talking. That is John said, 

“You know this might have been an easier feat had I made a box prototype rather than a screwdriver, the chip and wire components could have significantly more room, potentially a higher internal surface area than an external structure allowed…”

When Rose finally stepped out of the shower, the mad man next door was yammering on about some box. Or something. She really wasn’t sure and had used the opportunity to distract herself by singing in the shower. 

“I don’t think she’s listening,” John lamented to Tardis, who was resting on his desk. He stroked her and her head rose up, “and people call me rude.” Tardis meowed in admonishment. “Oh don’t you start. Look at me I’m talking to a cat.” Tardis flicked her tail into his side, and as it was metal it did hurt a bit, “Oi! Fine. Not just a cat.” Tardis laid her head back down in satisfaction.

“That’s just rude innit? Not even listening to me?” He called as the water turned off. He set down the screwdriver. Ridiculous woman. 

“Says the one who just kept on talking while I showered.”

“Oi!”

“Anyway I was going to tell you about my mate Shireen, last week she called me out of the blue...asked to borrow my old--”

Rose was interrupted by the start of a record…”Is ...is that Queen?”

“Oh, absolutely….”

The the fool man began singing, full on unabashedly, “Don’t stop me...Cuz I’m having a good time!”

Rose laughed, towel drying her wet hair, and unable to help bobbing a bit to his ridiculous antics. 

“Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars/On a collision course/I am a satellite, I'm out of control…”

Rose buried her face in her towel. She could only imagine what he looked like, but her imagination was not far off. John strutted around the room, big hand motions and flailing limbs. 

“I’m traveling at the speed of light…I’m having such a good time!”


	9. I Knew You (Were Trouble)

The next week when Jack showed up at his door, John was elbow deep in a bucked of blue slime. The Wolf girl was gone at work, so he just hummed to himself as he worked. He opened the door with his foot and darted out of the way as Jack swept in. Tardis ran out from under the bed and straight into Jack’s legs sending him sprawling forward onto the ground. She chirped loudly and then reflexively licked her paws. 

“Guess she finally wanted to meet you!”

“Har-Har,” Jack grumbled, pulling himself back to his feet. 

“By all means, come on in,” John quipped, hand headed to the sink to wash off his arms. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing,” Jack said eyes the bucket of slime and the green glowing chunk of rotor. 

“Oh, it’s not too complicated I’m just--”

Jack cut him off, “No seriously, I don’t want to know.”

“Fine. Spoilsport.” John finished washing up and turned around, leaning against the sink. “What’s up?”

“I need you again. Well. You’re invention.” Jack asked, his jaw quivering, as John fixed him a hard stare. 

“Which one. And for what?”

“I need to run TORCHWOOD. The algorithm on it is far superior to any facial or DNA recording system we have, with last known location entries, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never released the rights of it,” John countered, crossing his arms. 

Jack held up his arms, “Yeah and you can supervise. We need to find this woman. Calls herself the Master. She’s running this crime ring through South Asia.”

“And let me guess, traditional methods of finding her are yielding nothing?”

“Her last known location was Moscow. About 4 months ago.”

“If I run this for you, It’ll go against what I promised.”

“John. She’s a killer. And yeah, I get it yo don’t want anyone to have the power to find people who have purposefully and peacefully dropped off the grid. But this is different and you know it.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Name it,” Jack let the tension fall from his shoulders. He’d do whatever John requested and they both knew it. 

“Tell me how you are. You’re...sadder than you were. Every time I see you. And I now I never ask, but I … care.”

Jack walked further in and sat in the worn jump seat. 

“It’s Ianto. The guy. He’s… great. One problem: terminal brain cancer.”

“Oh Jack.” John said, pulling his friend into his arms in a tight hug. 

“It’s...difficult…” Jack said, releasing John. He wiped the tears from his eyes. Jack leaned back in the seat, eyes shut while John stood.

“Alright. Let’s go run TORCHWOOD,” he eyed Jack, “And no it’s not for pity. You have a crime lord to catch.”

With the successful running of the program, a few hits were gained pointing towards the Master being in the country of Serbia within the past 72 hours. With barking orders Jack sent his people out on recon and thanked John again. 

“No really. I… don’t mind helping to much.”

“That girl has done a number on you mate,” Jack shook his head.

“Yeah yeah, go see your man,” John replied, bidding Jack farewell with a little salute. Arriving home, late he called out in greeting. 

“You’re back!” She exclaimed and made her way to her spot by the wall next to the piano. 

“Do anything fun today?”

“I visited my mate Jack, stopped some crime.” John replied, moving to his spot, and leaning his back against the wall. 

“I swear you lead the craziest life.”

“We can’t all have days of beans on toast, Bad Wolf.”

Rose rolled her eyes and started to tell him about Grace’s progress and aptitude for picking up music from The Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. John told her about Jack, his need for help with projects and penchant for flirting with anything alive. With a dramatic story Rose regaled him with bits about Donna and how the last week she’d started dating Lance and talked non-stop about celebrities. It grew late quickly.

“We have to stop having these late night conversations by the wall…” Rose lamented, “My back is getting sore.”

“We could...er...move the beds...to the wall. Then I can talk your ear off until you fall asleep.”

Rose flushed. For a brief moment she wondered if he might understand the implications of sleeping so closely. I would have been an intimate suggestion, had the several inches of wall not been seated between them, immobile. 

“Or...not…” John continued awkwardly, “Really it was a suggestion, even a pillow or a chair could--”

“Why not?” Rose interrupted and John’s mouth snapped shut. Why not indeed? It wasn’t like there was any risk of physical contact. Of too much intimacy, just someone to talk to, a conduit for the lightning of thoughts in his head. The sound of a steady heartbeat a hand-breadth away but unreachable. Just as he deserved.

“Yup. Right-o. I need to stop using new words.” Rose laughed at him and he chuckled along, happy to break the tension. 

“I started this new thing,” Rose said, “I’m drawing again. I used to do it before.” She paused and though he desperately wants to ask, he waits. He figures she will tell him when she is ready. After all they both have burdens borne. “Anyway it’s mostly just nature stuff now, but I want to go out and do some human sketches.”

“I bet you are a brilliant artist,” the confidence in John’s voice startled Rose but she hummed and shrugged in response. He heard her stand and walk off. Then the distinct sound of furniture dragged across the room. Followed by a small creak as she plopped down on the moved bed.

“You just gonna stay sitting there?” She asked. And no, he wasn’t. John grabbed his own bed from across the room, where it had been, largely unused since the time he moved in. It was actually quite heavy, and knocked over a few things on the trip to the wall. With an out of breath huff, he sunk into the mattress, laying a matter of inches from the girl across the wall. Tardis jumped on the bed and curled up at his feet with a deep rumbly purr.

“Hello.” He said.

“Hello.” She replied.

“Bad Wolf?”

“Yeah?”

“How long are you going to stay with me? Like this?”

“Forever.”

\--xx--

With a swift kick to the door, John let Bad Wolf know he’d returned. His arms were full of groceries. Well they were supposed to be full of groceries. Instead he’d bought half of the hardware shop. 

“Hiya Doctor,” she called.

“Hello!” he chimed, setting down the bags and waggling his fingers at the wall. 

“Wotcha building today?” Rose said, cradling her head in her hands, sprawling over her bed on her stomach, knees bent and feet crossed at the ankles.

“Oh, I uhh…” John rifled through the bag as Tardis wound around his feet threatening to trip him. 

“I’ve been making this thing… It goes ding when there’s stuff.”

“What…?”

“Oh, well, um, basically, we normally view every observable thing as being in an eigenstate. An eigenstate is a linear transformation is a non-zero vector that changes by only a scalar factor when that linear transformation is applied to it. Everything appears to have a definite position, a definite momentum, a definite energy, and a definite time of occurrence. Time is a strict progression of cause and effect. However, quantum mechanics does not pinpoint the exact values of a particle's position and momentum, cuz they are conjugate pairs or its energy and time, again they too are conjugate pairs. Instead, it provides only a range of probabilities in which that particle might be given its momentum and momentum probability. Therefore, it is helpful to use different words to describe states having uncertain values and states having definite values…”

Rose doodled a little drawing of a sunset over a forest over the corner of her journal. The Doctor rambled on, 

“Schrödinger equation, applied to the aforementioned example of the free particle, predicts that the center of a wave packet will move through space at a constant velocity (like a classical particle with no forces acting on it). However, the wave packet will also spread out as time progresses, which means that the position becomes more uncertain with time…. Which is just nifty innit? For example, consider a free particle. In quantum mechanics, a free matter is described by a wave function. The particle properties of the matter become apparent when we measure its position and velocity. The wave properties of the matter become apparent when we measure its wave properties like interference. The wave–particle duality feature is incorporated in the relations of coordinates and operators in the formulation of quantum mechanics. Since the matter is free not subject to any interactions, its quantum state can be represented as a wave of arbitrary shape and extending over space as a wave function. The position and momentum of the particle are observables. The Uncertainty Principle states that both the position and the momentum cannot simultaneously be measured with complete precision. However…”

“Doctor…? I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

“Oh. Quite right. It’s a thing...basically a little computer type thing. And we know where a particle is or how fast it’s going but never both. And a particle here can affect one on the other side of the universe, instantaneously. If one switches direction the other will too, no matter how far away it is. Which means information is transmittable anywhere in the known universe. This computer thing, goes ding when this one particular particle changes position. Which it does...only when it’s observed. It’s twin is being housed at a facility in Antarctica. At any rate I’m updating the computer systems to track motion and then position, looking for a way to track it’s direction then location. Or location then direction. One doesn’t necessarily reflect the other.”

“Riiiiggghttt… So… you want to know where it is...and how fast it goes...but you can’t do both?”

“Correctamundo...I’m never using that again. Remind me not to use that word.”

“So… what’s the point of it? What’s it for?”

“Look at you! Asking the big questions.” The Doctor grinned as he paced over his living room. 

“With a better understanding of quantum mechanics we gain a better understanding of how our universe works. It’s about the smallest and biggest stuff. The way little particles like these interact could show us how the fourth dimension progresses from a non-linear non-subjective viewpoint. We could learn how to manipulate space time, travel the stars. And even if I had never met you time could be changed, according to the double slit experiment, if you observe which of two slits light passes through, you force it to behave like a particle. If you don’t, and observe where it lands on a screen behind the slits, it behaves like a wave. But if you wait for it to pass through the slit, and then observe which way it came through, it will retroactively force it to have passed through one or the other. In other words, causality is working backwards: the present is affecting the past. This only has an effect over indescribably tiny fractions of a second. But that light from distant stars that has bent around a gravitational well in between could be observed in the same way: which could mean that observing something now and changing what happened thousands, or even millions, of years in the past… so theoretically an outside observer could rewrite time.” 

John looked up and out the window at the smoggy London sky. Or just build a really big computer. Knowing humans...it’ll probably just be a big computer.”

“You do know you’re human right?”

“Who says?” John crossed his arms indignantly. He was indeed human. As far as he knew, but she was a bit fun to provoke.

“Probability.”

“Are you a betting man, Bad Wolf?”

“I’m not a man at all Doctor.”

“Who says?” He sassed and she laughed, the charade of impudence falling as her shoulders shook. 

“Guess we just have to trust each other.”

“Guess so.”

A short silence followed before Rose cracked up, “It’s like asking you to stay out of trouble.”

“Right… or you…” John lamented.

“We could always keep to ourselves…” They both laughed at this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey,
> 
> Sorry for anyone reading this! I've been busy with exams and such but I'm back now.
> 
> Hope all is well.
> 
> Nohbdy


	10. Because You Are A Sky (Full of Stars)

After her day restocking shelves, Rose was beyond happy to see Donna. 

“Donna!” She called heralding her friend into a hug out on the sidewalk. 

“Oi, Blondie, less pressure…”

“Sorry….” Rose said releasing her friend.

“It’s all fine. What’s new?”

“Not much, still talking to the Doctor, he’s barmy...but I kind of...love it?”

“Good for you! Lance is tryin’ drive me straight off a cliff. I know I’m just a temp, but he keeps telling me I need to ‘advance my career’...”

“Donna, you know what I’m gonna say about a man who wants to take charge of your whole life.”

Donna winced, “Sorry, I know…”

They made their way to the coffee shop and grabbed a cuppa. Donna filled Rose in on the latest gossip, apparently, Jim from IT was recently arrested for a series of muggings, wasn’t that something? 

With her break in the day over, they parted ways and Rose was back to work, later upon returning home,she stretched and yawned Rose knew she was growing tired. But she unlocked her door and felt elated that for once someone would be there. Waiting for her to return. 

“Hey, Ba-- can I just call you Wolf?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Glad you didn’t just shorten it to Bad.”

“Nahh,” John joked, “that’d just be silly.”

Rose set her keys down in the ceramic dish and hung her coat and hat. Her mail she dumped on her bed to be gone through later. It was quiet beyond the Doctor’s shuffling something around. 

“Wotcha doin’?”

“Glad…” he panted, “you asked,” a thump followed. “I’m relocating the jump seat for maximum space required for this little project.”

“What project?”

“Tonight, Miss Wolf, we are stargazing.”

“In London? Not likely.”

“...did you happen to get a box in the post?”

Rose narrowed her eyes and turned to her bed, where there was indeed a nondescript brown box, and at closer inspection the box simply read ‘Bad Wolf-- to travel the stars you need not leave home-- The Doctor’. She opened the box carefully and pulled out a small black device about the size of her palm. It held a single blue button that she immediately pressed. With a small yelp she let go, and it fell onto her bed. 

“Wolf? You okay?”

“I’m--’m fine,” Rose picked it up again and knowing what to expect let the light fill the room and turned off the overhead lamp. It was a light box. I little picture of the stars that fit in her hand and filled the room. 

“It’s accurate,” the Doctor said, “It’s hooked up to the international space station’s outward lens. A real time picture of the sky.”

“Did you…” her voice was breathless with wonder, “Did you make this?”

“Maybe. A bit,” John tugged the hair at the nape of his neck, a dumb nervous habit. 

“Thank you Doctor. Might be the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not…”

“It is though. Thank you.”

“Of course. Closest I could get you to the stars. And I can’t do much about time but… I can tell you that--”

“Shh…”

“Wha--”

“I’m listening…” Rose said, her voice soft, quiet. John nodded and waited. Then from silence came Silence. Rose’s deft fingers playing Beethoven’s slightly ironically named piece. How beautiful, he thought, that silence speaks, that if you listen closely you can hear the pulse of this vibrant universe. 

\--xx--  
Rose practiced the Mozart, her confidence in the notes now muscle memory, but it was the emotional weight that carried the piece every time. 

When she finished John applauded.

“Yeah, yeah, come off it,” Rose said waving her hand at him. The wall. Him.

“Oi. You’re fantastic. Take the credit,” John said, with endeared amusement. “Where… where did you learn to play?”

She knew he’d ask eventually. It wasn’t a story she really wanted to tell. “Oh, I just picked it up...here and there…”

“Really…”

She sighed heavily and turned on the stool, facing the wall. “It’s not a happy story.”

“Most of us have unhappy stories. I’m here to listen. I won’t judge,” he said.

“Fine.” Rose straightened her back and shut her eyes, “I was six when I started. My Nan had a piano in her front room. She taught me the basics, little jingles and stuff. ‘Nd I kept learnin’. Started to go from books. Taught myself some ‘o the classics,” Her rougher cockney poked through as she recanted the past.

“And that was all well and good. When I turned 16 I met this bloke. He was just out of school. I was going to try for my A levels, but he convinced me to drop out an’ help his band. He played guitar.” She pointed a finger at the wall, “Don’t say anything. Anyway, I started helpin’ him out. Cleaning up his flat, cooking and the what. He was no angel by any means but it wasn’t so bad.”

Rose took a deep breath, “And then the keyboardist quit. And I made the mistake of telling him I knew how to play piano. So he asked me to play. And I did, but it wasn’t ‘rock n’ roll’ enough.” Rose air quoted and rolled her eyes. “But he said he recognized my talent. And it was true I guess. For all his faults he knew music. He started training me for these classical competitions, so we’d earn money while he was startin’ out.”

John picked the lint off his shirt, in an effort not to interrupt until she was done. 

“Right. So, when I started doing poorly, cuz I was burnt out...That’s went it went south. He never hurt me, but he was always putting me down. He would compliment and insult me in the same breath. Always looking for something to pick apart. I started dreading playing for him. For competitions.”

John’s jaw clenched and he leaned back in his desk chair.

“Anyway...then end came when I was off work early, I still worked retail at Henrick’s, and saw him in bed with Larissa, one of his bandmates. I packed up and found this place. And just after I did, their band started doing okay. But I stopped paying attention. Wasn’t worth the trouble.”

A short silence ensued. “That’s it.” Rose added, “It’s not terrible but--”

“Stop. People always do that. Your joy or pain doesn’t depend on anyone else's. Someone having it worse doesn’t mean you don’t have it bad. Someone being happier than you doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. And I’m so sorry this happened Wolf.”

Rose wiped away an errant tear, “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. Well...relatively any time.”

“If you ever need or want...you can talk to me too…” Rose added, curling up on her duvet. 

It was silent for several minutes and she was certain he had fallen asleep or gotten lost in some physics thing. But then he spoke barely more than a whisper, “Thank you.”

\--xx--

“You should play something,” John requested. It was late, but they’ve been talking about the practicality of a sun made of bananas. Which incidentally would burn as hot as a regular sun, but for a much shorter period of time. And as Rose meandered to the piano, he started up again, “No, but really, the sun is only hot because its enormous weight – about a billion billion billion tons – with lots of gravity, putting it under pressure. If, instead of hydrogen, you got a billion billion billion tons of bananas and hung it in space, it would create just as much pressure, and therefore just as high a temperature.”

“You’re completely daft.” Vivaldi’s Spring warmed the air space as Rose dances her fingers over the keys. 

“So it would make very little difference to the heat whether you made the Sun out of hydrogen. However, the fusion reaction that keeps it going wouldn't get under way: so a banana Sun would rapidly cool down from its initial heat.”

“How would you get that many bananas into space anyways?”

“I have no idea.”

“What would you put them in?”

“Not a clue.”

“So glad I’ve got you…” Rose teased, her bright tongue touched smile invisible to the Doctor, but her mirthful tone was present. “Anyways, why would you want to put bananas in space?”

“Bananas are good.”

“...Then wouldn’t you want them here and not pretending to be a sun that’ll just burn out really quick?” Rose licked her finger as she flicked to the next page.

“Both is good,” John said, as he doodled a flower over a field of equations. He frowned at himself, and couldn’t help but notice, flowers aside, the math was easier with her Vivaldi rendition and playful banter. “So long as the banana plague doesn’t destroy them all.”

“The...banana plague?”

“Well, all the bananas are one species due to the first banana plague. So a second one could wipe them all out. Consequently that’s why banana flavoring tastes nothing like banana. It was made from the first type of banana. Which is gone now. Tragically.”

“Doncha wish you had a time machine?”

“Oh the places I’d go,” John tossed his chalkboard eraser from hand to hand. “You could come too if you wanted. Well. If you wanted to go with me that is. Well.”

“You’d want me to go with you?” Rose hid her face in her hands, glad he couldn’t see her blush and too wide smile.

“Only if you’d want to.”

“Of course I’d go. I’d love to,” she replied, because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t a feasible reality. And in this version of reality they’d probably never even talk face to face. Both a little to afraid. But she quite liked the idea that somewhere somewhen she and the Doctor were traveling in time or space or even just to Tesco’s hand in hand. “I’m sure we are in one of your crazy parallel universe theories.”

“Oh, yes. Brilliant! About oh...10^28 meters away. Roughly. Depending on the expansion rate of your average universe. Hard to get numbers on that it is.” John said, twiddling his chalk in his hands. The blue powder was falling over his dress pants and he had long since forgone the paisley tie in favor of just the button down and henley. 

“An infinite number of them? Of you and me?”

“More or less infinite. A finite number of histories but an infinite number of possibilities.”

“I’m glad I met you in this one,” Rose said, eyes trained to the wall, as if she could see beyond it, divide it’s atoms and find her Doctor alive and well.

“Me too.” 

\--xx--

“Shireen?” Rose questioned as she came out of the employee break room to find her long time friend sitting outside her door.

“Hey Rose. Sean’s kicked me out again, I just need somewhere to crash for a few hours. Yer mum finally took the key I’d been using away.” She pulled her pink and blue hair back from her face, looking up as Rose crouched down in front of her.

“You alright?” Rose asked.

“‘Course...He’ll be begging I come back by six. Just don’t want to deal with his shit right now.” Shireen puffed out her cheeks.

“Okay…” Rose sighed…”Okay, well, I’mma give you my back up key, I gotta head out to my other job… I just...”

“Wotcha new job Rosie?” Shireen played with the ends of her yellow teal striped scarf.

“‘Ve been teaching piano.”

“Good on you,” Shireen smiled and stood, wiping the mascara out from under her eyes. 

“If the next door neighbor starts up,” Rose paused…”Never mind, I’ll leave a note.”

“Cool--cool. You get channel seven?” Shireen remarked as she flopped down on the pink over chair. 

“Huh? Yeah…” Rose dug in her kitchen drawer, emerging with the key. “Here, lock up when you leave.”

“‘Course.” Shireen said turning on the telly and flicking through channels. Rose shook her head and let the door shut softly behind her. With a pen she scrawled a quick not to the Doctor and taped it on the other side of the stairs. Hopefully he’d see it. And if not well, he’d be surprised. 

However, the Doctor spend the day explaining some of his inventions to a board meeting and by the time he made it home, Shireen had already left and the note had fallen prey to someone else on the complex.


	11. Remember Those Walls We Built (Well Baby They're Tumbling Down)

That evening Rose scattered her pencils and oils over her card table and began flipping through her sketchbook. The Doctor was rambling in his kitchen, something about conductors. 

“We should do dinner,” Rose said, breaking the soft point of the red pencil she was using to outline her drawing. 

“Dinner?”

“Yeah you said you’d show me how to cook. Plus we could invite over Donna and Jack. I’d like to meet him.”

“I’m sure you would,” John scoffed, “He’s pretty.”

“I’d see him just as much as I see you right now,” she said. "It’ll be fun Doctor!”

“....Fine…” He stopped then added, “Oh, I can explain how to make tarte! Apples! It’s good. I used to make it for-- well I learned to make it in France. Wild time that was. Too many banana daiquiris.”

“You’ve been all over haven’t you?”

“I used to travel a lot, like I've said… I could tell some stories? If you want.”

“I’d love that.”

“One time, when I was in the backwaters of Louisiana, me and Sarah Jane were being chased around a swamp by this terribly angry mad dressed as an alligator. There had been all these rumors of this haunted land. And alien sightings and stuff. So, we just had to investigate. We also got caught up in the middle of a Mardi Gras parade. I’ve never seen so many beads. Anyway the man, was right pissed that we were poking around his barns and looking for anything out of place. Next thing I know we’re knee deep in marsh and finally, Sarah Jane trips him with a very fancy run about. Turns out he was trying to keep potential buyers of land adjacent to his property.”

“Doctor,” Rose licked her lips, “Whose Sarah Jane?” 

John clammed up immediately, in his excitement in telling the story he hadn't even realized he'd mentioned her in it. 

“You don't have to answer...you just have mentioned her before.”

He tried not to note the tinge of jealousy that colored Rose's voice. 

“Anyway it's ridiculous no one noticed a man dressed as an alligator killing anyone who got near his land….Doctor?” She asked as a muffled gulp reached her ears.

“I killed them.”

“Killed who? Doctor?”

John fought saying it all, fought it long and hard because he knew once he started he couldn't be stopped. But the words had already come out it was too late. 

“I killed a lot of people Wolf. Including Sarah Jane. My fiancee.” 

Rose was silent, but he sensed she was listening.

“I was in the military. I mostly wrote code for secret messages and got to build programs. But during the worst of fighting in Afghanistan I was called overseas to work on weaponry.” He took a minute to calm himself.

“Sarah Jane was an investigative journalist. She had traveled to Afghanistan, unbeknown to me in the city of Khalu. I was upset when I saw her there. But she was on the outskirts of town away from the fighting. Her main interviews were at a struggling clothes factory. I was on a team that was in charge of deploying one of the new weapons I'd helped develop. Code name, ‘the moment’. We came upon a terrorist cell, part of ISIS hiding in an old factory in Khalu. Our team had only minute to act before they moved and it came down a vote. A tie vote. And I was the only non participant as resident scientist non soldier.” John stuttered to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked.

“No. But I'm almost done. I need to finish.” She nodded in reply.

“There were 32 civilians in that factory. Men. Women. Children. And my fiancee. Investigating that very place. And hidden inside were 12 members of that terrorist cell. I made the call to detonate the moment and preserve the lives those men would have taken.”

Rose was silent as she gathered her thoughts. Never more had she wanted to reach through the wall and touch him. Cradle him close. Hold his hand. Whatever he allowed. She wanted to fill that void with comfort in a space where no words would ever be adequate. 

“Doctor? I know it's not the same, from me. But I forgive you.”

The Doctor leaned against the wall, tears dripping down his chin, “I didn't want to go. I never wanted to go.”

“I know.”

“It wasn't fair. I could have been so much more…” his voice laced with anguish dug a knife in Rose's heart.

“You are more. And you will be more. It isn't over yet.” She said, as close to not shaky as she could muster.

“Wolf...I…” 

A loud buzz scared them both and they jumped. A pager in the Doctor's flat had gone off. 

He wiped his tears with his sleeve. 

“I have to go.”

“I'll see ya later?”  
For once he didn’t argue with her about the semantics of ‘see’ but just said, “Yeah. I'll be back.” And he slipped into the night. 

When he returned the next day, Rose made a point not to bring it up, but instead teased him about the smell of burnt oranges that permeated the flat the previous Saturday. And gradually the Doctor’s shoulders eased down his neck and his jaw stopped twitching every time she started talking. It was ok. He could breathe again.

\--xx--

“Okay,” John grinned madly to himself, hair wild and askew. In his left hand he held the chef’s knife and in the right he shooed Tardis away from his heavy cream. “Next you want to finely chop your apples. Neat strokes.” His deft fingers moved in muscle memory, the slices of apple slim and even.

Rose fumbled and the apple fell to the floor. She picked it up and hacked off a haphazard chunk. “Okay got it!”

“Fantastic. Now pick up the bowl of cream and whip it.”

Rose picked up the bowl and proceeded to get the cream whipped. All over her own face and hair. “Doing well!” She called over.

“Now check your onions. Should be a nice caramel color.” Ah, Rose thought, that was what was probably burning. She rushed to pick up the pan and proceeded to dump the blackened bits of vegetable into the bin. 

“Top the lasagna pan with the onions, and put the apple tarte in the oven.”

Rose ignored the bit about the onions and put her chopped apple mixture thing in the oven. It’s maiden voyage. She was actually quite proud. Something on the oven, probably meant to go in something else, was burning now, and she quickly tossed it out the window of her flat, where a shout from below echoed in her ears. Oh well, can’t win them all. 

When Donna knocked at the door Rose rushed to answer. 

“Donna! How are you?”

“Smashin’, and yourself?”

“Good, yeah,” Rose nodded giving her friend a quick hug, “Just freshing up…” Rose adds as she gestured to the makeup bag on the counter. 

“You really must be feeling good! Haven’t seen you wear much in awhile,” Donna smiled, “And d’ya happen to be burning something?”

“Errr...no?” Rose bit her lip and turned around back into the kitchen. 

“Rightttt…” Donna laughed and shrugged off her coat. “You’ll never guess what Lance said to me the other day, he was all like, ‘the atkins diet has never…”

Rose quickly quit paying attention as Donna launched into a detailed story of a number of celebrities who swore by this or that diet as she set down her paper plates and plastic cutlery.

“You've made everything nice for me?” 

“Actually there are four of us,” Rose said and approached the wall, upon which the fold out table was propped against. “Donna there is somebody I want you to meet.”

\--xx--  
John’s hands were for once not shaking while he cut fine slices of apple, his movements nearly as precise as they had been the last time he’d made the dish. He genuinely hoped the Bad Wolf girl was doing alright. From the muffled sounds of frustration in between her reassurances he was fairly certain she was struggling a bit. And he felt a soft desire to be there with her, wrap his arms around her waist and teach her the smooth wrist motions that led to even cuts, to feel her shiver if he breathed out against the back of her neck. John paused, that line of thinking was never good and he stopped himself before it went to far. She had made it very clear she didn’t want to meet. And he had been clear with her, but perhaps not himself, that he was not suited to that kind of entanglement any longer. Shaking his head John finished the spiral arrangement of apple along the glass pan and slid it into the oven.  
A knock at the door startled him from his musings and he opened the door to let Jack in. 

“Hey, Doc!”

With a put upon sigh, John embraced his friend and took the wine from his proffered hand. 

“Thanks Jack.” He looked at the wine and nodded in approval. 

“So, this girl then is just made up?”

John smiled enigmatically at his friend and ushered him into the kitchen, where the dining table was pushed up against the far wall. Jack narrowed his brows and crossed his arms. Shrugging his shoulders at John, he asked a silent question.

“I've got to get this out of the oven,” he said. 

“Well then do it,” Jack replied walked deeper into the room. John declined to reply and instead pulled the tarte out of the oven. 

“Apple tarte, John? It’s been… what? Five years?”

John merely shrugged, but Jack denoted it was the mildest reaction that his reference to his time with Sarah had ever brought out. And he missed John’s cooking, the man could be a stellar cook if he wanted. 

Jack opened the wine and poured them both a glass, and they clinked glasses.

“It’s good. But also, what is this insanity?” 

“You'll see,” John stoop by one of the two burgundy chairs at the wooden table facing the wall. The knock on the wall was tentative. 

“Doctor?”

“Wolf. And Donna, it's lovely to meet you.” John turned to look at Jack, “Donna this is Jack, Jack, Donna.” 

“This is ridiculous…” Jack uttered.

“I don't understand…” Donna looked from the wall to Rose and back again, “Who are we talking to?”

Rose clumsily sat down in one of the tan chairs, hands shaking as she pulled out a chair for Donna and motioned for her to sit. Hesitantly Donna lowered herself on the seat.

“I've tried to tell you...This is my neighbor. The one I was telling you about? We sort of live together.”

“What...the…” Jack turned and tilted his head, open mouthed to John. “You just can't be like everybody else?” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you see each…”

“No.”

“Okayyy…”

“This is mad. I don't understand. Is it just me who’s gone completely crackers?” Donna reiterated licking her lips and staring blankly at the card table pressed against the wall. Rose's plastic cutlery scattered on the tabletop. 

Rose waited until Donna looked at her to start, “I invited you to dinner to meet someone important to me.”

“Who is...important to you?”

“Yeah. He was my neighbor. Now he's my best friend. Other than you.” She admonished, laying a hand on Donna’s forearm.

“Why you across the wall then does he not know basic human dining practices? He from mars or something?

“I’m...I’m not from mars?” The Doctor protested, a bit flabbergasted. 

“So he's...your guy?” Donna clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes.

Rose felt heat pool in her face and glance to the side and back quickly, “You could say that…” she mumbled.

“Ahhh…” Jack nodded to John with a wide smirk. John scowled. ‘Stop that,’ he mouthed, taking a seat. Jack pulled put the chair next to him shaking his head with a chuckle. The both dug into their lasagna. On the other side, Rose had tossed the burnt dish and they sipped white wine from plastic cups. 

“Again, nice to meet you Donna, I've heard a lot about you.” John said again, hoping to shift the focus. 

“I see,” Jack said filling time slight pause, “you're the reason he's less of a pain in my ass,” he smiled at the wall and the two mystery women behind it. 

“That's saying a lot…” Rose laughed, “The Doctor’s… stubborn. Worse ‘en me.”

“To say the least.” That earned Jack a sigh from the man in question.

“I have no reason to be pain around you,” John replied to Rose, “you don't give me a reason to be. And I know better than to bother you before your morning tea.”

“I'm trying, and I have learned not to ‘interrupt’ when you’re talking physics like 300 miles an hour,” Rose exclaimed but her eyes were alight with a small smile. 

“We’re doing alright,” John said, he barest hint of something else in his voice. 

“True,” Rose said turning to Donna, “We do try.” Donna smiled awkwardly.

“What?” John said as Jack grinned widely at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I think it's sweet.”

“Sweet,” Jack's voice dipped into saccharine tones as John swatted his arm. 

At last Donna's cool face cracked as she laughed along with Rose and the men. 

“Really, it's ridiculous,” she stated, “Doctor, Wolf?”

“You do call me Blondie, Donna,” Rose pointed out, her hair slipping from her ponytail into her face as she leaned forward.

“I know its unorthodox,” John added, “But it works. We’re happy.”

“That's not happiness,” Jack interjected, hands making vague gestures over the table, “Happiness is sharing things. Being near each other. Being there for each other.” 

“Yes,” John nodded.

“We do that,” Rose said, clasping her hands together under the table. It was enough she mentally reassured herself and far safer than the alternative.

“No.” Jack insisted, “not all that. Happiness is...is touching. Holding onto each other. Looking into each other's eyes. Knowing their smell...” Jack looked a bit dreamily lost and John pulled him back. 

“Yeah, smell, right after a nice five mile jog.”

The laughed but for Jack who looked affronted. “You told her?”

“She's my best friend...we are just saying we have the essentials without any of the hassles. We won't argue over decorating, toothpaste, dishes…”

“Dirty laundry, the toilet seat…” Rose added, “ if I want to spend the day in my Jim jams…”

“Then she does,” John smiled with his hand sweeping over to gesture at the wall. Not that he'd mind being in her presence in her Jim jams but this was easier. Except now he was curious as to what her Jim jams looked like. What she looked like, with her warm buttery sleepy voice he got to hear every night. He needed to derail himself,  
“If I want to work all night…”

“The he does,” Rose smiled, the soft mutterings often lulled her to sleep these days anyway. She convinced herself that hearing them was enough, and that resting her head on his shoulder feeling that voice rumble in his chest wouldn’t be any better. 

“Support…” She said.

“With no intrusion…” he finished for her.

“So,” Jack added, “Of he wants to scratch his balls all day…”

“Then I do,” John humored Jack, with a good natured guffaw. 

Rose laughed clutching her stomach, it was hard to picture, The Doctor was always so polite.

“It works great,” John said as the noise quieted. 

“I see one hitch.” Donna said finally, “In a caring friendship, relationship whatever this is, seeing is essential? You know?”

John hummed and Rose frowned.

“To read between the lines. You are both obligated to say everything.”

“Exactly.” Jack said pointing to the wall as his sanity was confirmed.

“I've learned,” Rose spoke quietly, “you can see pretty good without seeing.” She tucked the fallen hair behind her ear and shifted in her chair.

“That makes no sense.” Donna said rolling her eyes.

“Let's have desert!” Jack declared. He really wanted some of John's tarte. 

“Good idea.” Rose said standing to fetch the apple thing.

“You made desert?” Donna's eyebrows shot up. And she bit back laughter as rose returned with a slightly blackened circular...something.

“Looks great!” Jack said a John brought over the pan. 

“Oh that's …” Donna snickered, “I don't think we're eating the same thing. Though it is the first time I've ever see you cook blondie.”

“Hey,” Jack called, “did he ever tell you his face is like a picasso?” John indignantly crossed his arms. “---not that he's ugly or anything. Just unique. Asymmetrical if you will.”

“I can see him however I want.” Rose said, and whispered conspiratorially to Donna, “Yesterday it was Will Smith.”

“Funny...his voice makes me think-” Donna whispered.

“What's that,” John said as he and Jack leaned forward onto the wooden table. 

“Oh. Nothing!” Donna replied, eyes wide. “Actually we were trying to picture you, Jack.”

“Really…” Jack smiled and leaned back. 

“You first...what do you think I look like.”

“Alright, Donna...I see you as...perhaps short. Short brown hair. Maybe an uptight teacher.” Laughter rung over the wall but Jack continued undeterred,”A bit opinionated but nice once you know her. And attractive.” Rose nodded approvingly but fell back into laughter as he finished. “In her own way.” 

“Bloody, nailed it.” Donna wiped a year from her eye. “My turn. I imagine you to be tall. Handsome. Straight white teeth.” Jack frowned slightly and looked over to John for help. He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. Donna continued, “Dark well groomed hair, kept fairly short. Wide square jaw… The kind of man all the women fall over. Maybe some of the men. Charming. But probably a little lonely under all that.”

“Wow…” John said, “That was uncanny.”

Donna turned to Rose and smiled brightly, doing a little victory shimmy. 

“Well, I am just a temp. And I'm sure you're just fine,” Donna said unsure how to react as the other man had gone a bit quiet. 

“I'm sure you'd find me irresistible, “ Jack finally said, with a proffered wink. 

“Oi mate, I'm sure you're charming.” She paused. “In your own way.” The group burst into laughter again at that. 

“This isn't so bad after all,” Jack said as the chuckles died down in his throat. 

They finished their desert and Rose broke out a box of cookies she'd bought as backup. Soon it was time for Donna and Jack to leave. 

“Thank you, I had a good night. Stay out of trouble,” Donna said as she gave Rose a hug, and pointed at the wall as she exited the flat.

“I'm happy for you,” Jack said, clasping John's shoulder. “And her friend…”

“Don't you start,” John said, but he was smiling. Jack left. 

John began washing dishes. Rose played the piano, a soft melody that John soon recognized. He sang along as he washed, his cheeks hurt from smiling. 

As she turned out the lights for the night, she wished the Doctor a goodnight, and curled up facing the wall, her bed now back against it. John on the other side did the same.

\--xx--

“Could ya turn off the light?” Donna asked Lance, “I'm exhausted.”

“I'm not done with my crossword.It's hard. Level 4.” Donna rolled her eyes.

“Four letter word for key to happiness, starts with ‘w’,” he mused.

“Wall.” Donna deadpanned and turned over and away from Lance in the bed.


	12. Nobody Said It Was Easy (But No One Ever Said It Would Be This Hard)

The next week Rose rose early and poured her morning tea, outside her window sill the sun had risen and the sky was painted a creamy pink. Her mobile shrieked from her pocket. And she answered. 

“Hey Jimmy.” She cringed. “Yeah that's fine.” She hung up quickly. 

John heard this from his desk next door and piped up, “Everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Rose swallowed.

“Who was it?” 

“The uh guy...who taught me piano.”

“The one you told me--”

“Yeah. Him.”

John set down the screwdriver and fiddled with some spare wires. “I didn't know you still saw him.”

“I, uh, I don't,” Rose say perched on her window ledge, “It’s for this contest.”

“Okay…”

“You'll see he's… well. Harsh. But please don't interfere. I really need his help. Really he always understood music so well. I don't want to piss ‘im off.”

John nodded, his jaw set in irritation.

“Very well. I'll be quiet.” 

When Jimmy banged on the door Rose was up and ready in an instant. John was curled up in his jump seat by the wall determined to listen in. And probably not intervene. Probably.

“You've ended up in a maid's closet,” Jimmy sneered as Rose kicked a bit of laundry under her bed. She told his coat and set it on the back of a chair. “I can send Maria to clean.”

“No. No I'm fine,” Rose insisted, hating the higher pitch it seemed to take around Jimmy. As if that were less threatening somehow. 

“It's nice that you're trying to be independent. Your own mistress.” Jimmy smirked as he ran a finger over the dust on top of Rose's piano. John resisted snorting in the other room.

“Can I get you something? Water?” Rose stammered.

“Didn't come here for water. I came to see if you're still any good. At your request. So play.”

Rose cringed at the command, but rushed over to the piano, “Did you want to hear the Impromptu?”

“No, the Mozart is more important.” He propped himself up and pulled himself into the windowsill to sit. His leather trousers creaked at the sudden movement. “I doubt they'll let you play two bits.”

John shook his head and placed his chin in his palm propping his arm up by his bent knee. 

Rose started to play, much as she had been but the notes came out slow and shaky with nerves. 

“Are you joking?” Jimmy asked. “More control in your fingers, I didn't drive across London to hear you massacre Mozart.”

Rose hardened her feelings and straightened her back. She focused on the motion and timing if the keys.

“Did someone replace your left hand, Jesus…”

Rose stopped. “I'll start over…”

“Did you forget everything?” Jimmy asked hopping down from the window to her bench. 

“My beautiful little girl, it's about control and precision in the classical world. Fuck up and they eat you alive.” He gathered up Rose's hair, and pulled it back into a tight bun. “Shouldn't have dyed it.” He muttered. “Now what else to you need?” His hands settled on her shoulders and pulled her back straight, bordering on hyper-extended. 

“Posture.” She whispered. 

“Go on. I'm listening, “ Jimmy gestured for her to play. And she did. As she had when she arrived with technical grace, and hollowness. “Good, charming even.” Jimmy said.

John stood disgusted. He couldn't just let him treat her like this. 

Rose stopped playing abruptly. “Excuse me. I've got something in my eye.” She wiped away some forming tears and rushed off to the loo.

Alone in the room Jimmy startled as a strange banana picture began moving accompanied by moaning ghost noises.

“What the fuc--" he took a few steps towards it and grabbed it pulling it from the wall. It came off with a hard tug and he set it on the ground. Underneath it was some kind of magnet and some sort of small hole through the wall.

“Fuckin hell… he poked at the hole in the wall. “Who's fuckin with me? Anyone there?”

John dashed over to the shelf and pulled up a bottle of beer and the hollow point thin pipe he'd used to get rid of the last neighbor. He stuck that in the wall and took a swig of beer. He spat that through the pipe and straight onto the trousers of the man across the wall. Hearing foot falls he removed the pipe and sat back against the wall breathing heavily. Hopefully she wouldn't be too mad.

“What happened to you?” Rose asked as she exited the loo and got a glance of Jimmy's wet leather trousers.

“It isn't… it wasnt… it not me. It's that…” he turned and pointed at the wall. “It's that fuckin hole in the wall that...that's it!” He swiftly grabbed his coat from the chair, “I've got to go I have an important meeting with a record label. You should come back. Work with me at our old flat. You have four days.”

“I'm… I'm sorry…” Rose muttered to the closing door. 

“You okay?” The Doctor's voice called through the wall, “Is he gone?”

Rose stalked up to the wall.

“That was childish. You said you'd be quiet!” 

“I couldn't help it. The way he talked to you. Called you ‘my little girl’,” John shuddered involuntarily, “Is that how he talks to you? It's wrong.” John put his beer down and tossed the pole back in the room.

“You didn't have to listen.”

“Oh really? What would you have done?”

“I'd leave. Or use my earphones.”

“If I were you he'd have been punched at the first ‘my little girl’.”

“Ugh!!! Why is it people never listen and do what I ask? You all piss me off. I am pissed!” Rose growled in frustration. She stomped off to the kitchen and threw her cutlery and plates on the floor. 

“Dammit! Nothing. Will. Break!” With a frustrated shriek Rose sunk down to the floor. “Stupid plastic.”

John ran a hand through his hair. He had a bit messed up.

“Wolf, I…”

Rose stood again shoulder pulled taut with tension. 

“It'll be okay. It's not that bad, we’ll talk and…”

“No. There is no we. You're not with me. Here.” Rose glared at the wall, as if willing it to burn. 

“I'm really sorry…” John started but the door slammed shut on his apology. Tardis came out from under the jump seat and rested her head on his foot with a rumble. He reached down and held her close, “I’m so sorry.”

\--xx--

“Very good Grace,” Rose smiled at the young girl, her icy eyes shut in concentration as her fingers found the notes. Rose added in her off tune singing, “Might be crazy but it ain’t no lie, Bye bye bye…”

Grace joined in and their off kilter rancorous song ended in a bit of laughter. From somewhere inside the house behind them a slow clap started.

“My the education I’ve been paying for,” a cultured voice filled the air as Rose stiffened and turned around. Grace froze, the smile falling from her face.

“Oh...you must be Mrs. Hawfield.” Rose surveyed the woman in front of her, still across the room. She wore a red silky dress with a high fur collar. Her hair was blonde and hung down her shoulder in waves. Her face, once might have been called pretty but it was clear she’d had some work done, her nose far to thin to be natural, her lips too plump and cherry red for her face. And then there was her facial expression, singular and stoic, skin pulled far too tight and stiff. Leaving her without joy or sorrow or any other mark of life on her face. 

“Miss. O’Brien. I took my maiden name back. That man was worthless. Hardly purely English.” She sniffed.

“Uh… purely English?” Rose asked in disbelief.

“Oh mixed breeds are never worth your time Miss Tyler.” Miss. O’Brien examined her nails and leaned against one of her pillars. “At any rate your sub par piano lessons have reached their end.”

“She really has improved, and we’ve also been working on--”

“Truly dear, I don’t care.” With that Cassandra swept across the room to Grace. “Come child, we will find someone more professional and experienced. Perhaps we will try violin instead. Piano might not be your forte. I don’t know why Glinda found this childish chav.”

“But Rose is--”

“Grace Hawfield. Come with me.” She placed Grace’s cane in her slim young hands. “Miss Tyler you have ten minutes to gather your things.”

Rose stood up and let the stool fall behind her, with a resounding crack on the marble. 

“Listen here you over processed skin bag, your daughter is talented. And she can play the classics. Clearly you care about her so let her play what she wants to. And listen to her.” She threw her arms down in frustration. Cassandra O’Brien glowered, clutching her daughters arm.

“You have ten minutes before I call security, don’t return,” she swept out of the room, nearly dragging Grace who stumbled into her legs. 

The following night Rose played. She played with her technique on pointe and her hair pulled back so tight her eyes watered. Through the wall the Doctor asked if she was alright. Then told she she can't sulk forever. Silently she begged him to piss off. But stopped playing and popped her headphones in. What she did not hear after was the Doctor next words. 

“I'm sorry. I know I crossed a boundary. It was over the top. I...apologize. I really do think Jimmy is harmful for you and not good for your competition. Do you understand? You understand what I'm saying? Bad Wolf?......”

“...Wolf…?”

He was greeted only by silence. 

Rose with her headphones in was writing down notes on her performance and some slight modifications to improve the general lit. She planned to keep this up the rest of the night.

\--xx-- 

The following afternoon John was at work on his sonic, his own headphones blaring the Bee Gees in his ears. The sonic screwdriver was coming along and as he carefully tweaked a wire a small jolt caused his hand to spasm. Tardis moved from her spot on his feet and jumped up on the desk, he shooed her off and she protested with a mechanical hiss. He sighed and removed his headset. Which was all kinds of mistake, if the breathy moan from across the wall was anything to go by. It was followed by a groan. 

“This is so crazy…” Some male voice carried across the wall said. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Baby, don’t you just,” A teasing tone evident in the voice.

John, beet red and tense, snagged his coat from the rack and let the door shake the room on his way out. There was no way he was staying and listening to...that. 

On the other side of the wall, Shireen giggled into Derrick's shirt. “Think we upset the neighbors?”

Derrick paused as his lips trailed down her neck, “Ya sure yer friend Rose don't mind us usin’ her flat?”

Shireen shrugged, “She never had a problem before, when we were teens she'd let me in whenever to use the room. Her mum was never home… don't see why she'd care nowww--” Derricks head dipped below her skirt and she gripped the chair tightly. “Don’t stop…”

\--xx--

Rose's new and unfortunate secondary job was working at the grocers. And in fact was being trained in by the man, Ralph, who awkwardly presumed she would indeed like meals made of brain. And whatever tripe was. 

“You know, it's interesting,” Ralph mused, chewing a bit of mint gum, “you being a piano teacher. And ending up here. I studied music theory myself in uni.” Rose blinked and looked away, balling her hands up in the sleeves of her sweater. He blinked up at her from his swivel chair, eyes begging for a response.

"I thought it was funny,” Ralph lamented, with a shrug. As he turned he tripped on the chair, but got up quickly and began restocking the beans on aisle three. When the suffering of the shift was over, she shuffled home, barely missing Shireen herding Derrick out the front door and down the back alley. Rose dumped her keys in the dish, her room in vague disarray. 

“Did he leave?” A tired voice across the wall asked.

“What are you on about?”

“I didn't… know it was like that. Was it your ex?” John stood buttoning up his oxford and pacing the room. He was angry. But why, he thought, did he have any right to be?

“What are you talking about? Have you lost it?”

“Don't try to pretend, it doesn't suit you. Humans and their deniability.” John's voice was empty of feeling. Rose swallowed thickly as she saw it, Shireen's yellow and teal scarf, hung over her bed post. Did she think it was still okay to...?” Spotting the obviously recently cleaned kitchen chair and floor, Rose scrunched up her nose. Damn. Shireen was so getting her key revoked for this. 

“Listen. It's not what you think.”

“Stop. I don't want to hear it. You could have at least gone to a hotel!” John's frustration colored the cadence of his voice which had lost its smooth flow and was breaking into staccato. 

“Shh. It wasn't me. It was my mate, Shireen.” Rose sighed and sat on her pink comfy chair. 

“Sure it was.” John's voice dropped. “And I have to believe you. I have no way of knowing. I have to have complete trust, is that it? And if you were to hear...sounds…” John swallowed thickly, “It could be Jack or the telly. There is no way to have that trust.” Tardis reappeared from where ever she had gone and seemed to protest his anger by refusing to come up to him. Instead she flounced away with a distancing glance.

“Trust? You listen to me. A jealous controlling man destroyed me once and I'll be damned if I ever let that happen again. You don't tell me what to do. No one does. Not ever again. I'm no one's little girl. I don't need anyone.” Rose took a deep breath, brushing the fallen hair from her eyes, “Just what is this friendship? This relationship anyway? Who are you really? You're just a voice. Only a voice.” 

And Rose was yelling at a wall. A wall with cream paint and a backwards painting. Separated from this voice by gypsum powder pressed between paper. Separated by a few inches of wall and everything each of them could not see. 

“Maybe I'm crazy,” she mused, “talking to myself. Maybe you don't even exist.”

“I do...I do exist.”

“Is that all you have to say? You could be in some parallel world on the other side of that wall or you could be a few inches from me and it doesn't matter. It doesn't. Because Doctor, you can't see me. Not in the literal way and not in the way that counts either. You can't see me.”

Rose paused, tears falling across the bridge of her nose, her palm against the wall. 

“No. And you can't see me,” he replied, hand covering his mouth. Holding back tears he continued, “I think this is where it ends. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't work.”

“Are...are we ever going to talk again? Or are we forever separated?” Rose asked, silently asking to go back. Back to how it was when he sang Queen badly and loudly and she couldn't stop laughing. Back to when she had the chance to meet him. To truly meet him. But it was too late.

“Just take a look,” John whispered so low she strained to hear it, “we are already separated. I don't even know your name.”

“I guess it's good we never met. It would be even harder….I'll,” Rose turned and looked at her little room, “find somewhere else to live. I probably should have the first.”

John desperately desired to protest, that knowing her was better than having never done so, even if always would have ended up this way. That he would meet her in person. Instead he only asked, “Do you...need anything…?” 

And Rose laughed only the Doctor would care to ask if she needed care when he was the one hurting her. Of course. 

“No. I have my competition tomorrow, I need to focus. I'll go to a hotel.”

“No, it’s fine.” John slid on his great coat, “I'll go.”

“Go where? You have one friend and he is a bit of man whore.”

“I am capable of looking after myself. I'm not completely mad.” Anger was creeping back into his defeated voice.

“Sure.” Rose said petulantly. She crossed her arms and sat on a stool. 

“Fine.” John replied shutting the door with gusto. Only to reopen it and adjust the molecular model of sucralose on his display by the door. And then shut it again, with just as much force. Rose flinched. It didn't hurt any less than anything face to face she'd ever lived. She sat at the piano, the notes of Clair De Lune fell from her finger like tears. Her only words when her voice was gone and unable to express what was left. Music was the silence between the notes.


	13. Lights Will Guide You Home (And I Will Try To Fix You)

“Jack!” John called, coat swishing around his ankles. The dock was deserted this time of night, but he sincerely hope Jack was still out on his boat. He hiked up the leg of his trousers and hopped over a puddle. “Jack?” He called as he approached ‘The Votex’. 

“Doc? What are you doing here?” Jack asked as he stepped, thankfully alone, out onto the deck of the skip. Fetching a few cans of beer, Jack sat down on one of the chairs in deck and cracked the top, “Feel like I'm going to need this.”

John now meanwhile was under the console of the outer driving port, poking around the mechanics. 

“Trouble in paradise?...well?”

John continued banging on the engine. 

“You're sulking, Doc. Why don't you just get over it and go ring her doorbell?” John pulled a swig of beer and fixed Jack with a hard stare.

“Well fine,” Jack began, “Allow me to summarize, you have somehow by chance found a nice, charming, funny, pretty chick...well maybe pretty. Who for some reason likes you and puts up with your eccentric behavior and slight God complex. And you let her go. Does that about sum it up?”

John looked out onto the Thames and the water lapped against the lights of London. 

“John. You're letting your life pass you by. All you do is sit up in that flat building projects no one will ever see because you deem them too complicated and dangerous. But you're just hiding from a world you don't think you're worth to be in.” Jack paused, letting a spark of challenge light his eye, “Bet you won't even go to her audition.” John's eyes flicked down but he otherwise did not respond. 

Jack sighed, “You'll never change.”

“We can't see each other, we made a pact,” John insisted, “it would ruin everything, you understand? No you can't. You don't.”

Jack lashes out and swept the beer cans off the table, they tumbled into the Thames.

“Maybe.” He hissed the breathed and spoke softer, “maybe I don't understand. But me. I will be there. I want to see her.” Jack leaned forward and placed his palm on the railing. “Ianto’s gone John. Someone I finally liked being around. But I promised him I wouldn’t quite living. And you know what? Sarah Jane would’ve wanted the same for you.

John. It's been five years. You didn't kill her. Yes, you loved her, and part of you always will. But dammit John. You've got a chance with this girl. One you never dreamed of. Do you want to let her get away?”

“Jack. You piss me off. Really you do.” John stood letting his chair clatter to the floor and he walked away, as Jack watched eyebrows drawn upward and lips silently parted. 

John walked along the river, and up onto the parkway. He paused over a bridge and stood above it, watched the water do what he couldn't as great waves of it rolled away and moved on from ground it had already covered. It did not waver on its journey. But John was stuck, wavering. And he kept walking. Through streets he didn't know and places he hadn't been in ages. Or ever.

And peace struck the sky in the sunrise and John was somewhere in or near London, watching it the day begin from a bench at a bus stop, he was tired, lonely, and in need of a shower. But something about being here and not home felt free. Felt like traveling used to feel. And oh how he missed it. 

\--xx--

Rose waited to be called, pacing the pre audition room. The other contenders glared so she stopped sinking into one of the plush red velvet chairs, a death grip on the hand holders, her breathing carefully controlled. She would be near the last. Candidate 9. And as candidate 8 was called, Rose forced herself to still, to quit twitching in her seat. 

Jack, entered the recital hall, ready to watch the esteemed Rose Tyler perform Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 20. He still was curious as to what she and her friend looked like. But more so, to hear her play. As much a John had talked of her, he had to know. As he gazed around the theatre he noted John's absence.

“Coward. Predictable.” He muttered to himself. 

“Quiet!” A redhead a few rows down hissed up at him. He leaned back shutting his mouth. Fussy piano broads, he thought to himself. 

“Candidate 9, Rose Tyler.” The judges called. There were five of them. Two women. Three men. All over 50 years old, dressed conservatively in dark neutrals. The bright light facing the stage nearly blinded Rose. It had been a while. She sat at the stool.

“You alright miss?” One of the judges asked as she stumbled a bit in the chair, flipping open the sheet book on the piano top.

“Are you ready?” The mustached judge inquired.

“Yes. I am.” Rose responded. She sucked in her cheeks and blew it out slowly. One last breath. And her fingers began an easy technical rendition. Like clockwork, without mistake, falter, or feeling.

The judges watched, eyes blank but carefully examining. 

And back behind the stage a man crept into the auditorium. His hair was chaotic, his suit coat rumpled and his converse leaving a slightly damp trail to the back behind the curtain. He knew it was her. Rose. Not that he really had known her name. It did have that ring to it. Rooose. But she was playing like a robot. Like some kind of emotionally deleted thing. And he wanted to yell, scream, cry, for some of that heart she'd shown the first night the talked. Hell, for the fire she'd had the last night they'd talked. Not like that, he thought as her notes fell flat. 

“You're not allowed back here.” A voice startled John, and in stage Rose heard it too. 

“I'm just staying until she's done.”

“You have to leave sir. You can listen in the hall with everyone else.” 

The stage hand grabbed John who pulled his arm back. “We can't see each other,” he hissed. The sound of his shoes scuffing the floor reverberated in the hall. Rose halted in her playing.

“This guy is crazy!” The stage hand said, which was amplified by the hall's acoustics.

“Oh my god.” Jack put his palm over his forehead. The judges glanced at each other in confusion. Donna sighed. Rose turned to face the wavering curtain to her left. 

“Rose. Now's your chance.”

And suddenly she wished he had known her name from the beginning because the way he said it sent chills down her spine. “Oi! Ow that hurt. Let go.” Were his next words muffled and quieter as he was let out of the auditorium. 

“Thank you miss that will be all.” The lady judge with a big bird broach said.

“No. I'm starting over.” Rose retorted. She reached up and un-clipped her hair, pulling off the soft gray cardigan, she looked less unkempt but more alive. 

“It's not worth it--” began one of the judges, another called “Candidate 10…”

But it was too late, keys had been struck and Rose was playing. And instead of control and precise movements, she played with fire. She played like she'd been inspired and was ready to burn down a building. Her hair fell in her face and stuck to her glossy lips. Her fingers danced and her body moved in time. She played like a drowning woman finding land, a man in the desert finding water. She laughed intently he face of futility. Whatever it was that burned her veins like liquid gold poured into the music with a howl. She felt the wet on her cheeks. Tears? She didn't know she was lost. And she let herself believe that at the end of this madness there would be hope. Or at the very least the Doctor who promised her that hope.

He begged to be let back in as he heard music start up, but the stage hand or doorman or whatever refused to give him access. So he stood outside, listening to something extraordinary.  
Donna swiped away a tear from her seat and Jackie next to her clutched her hand whispering, “That's my Rose.” Jack leaned back in his seat, letting out a silent whistle. Damn. She was good. And beautiful. If John didn't completely fuck this up, he'd be a lucky man. 

The judges were rapt. And as she finished they nodded to each other. Meanwhile Donna and Jackie stood and clapped, Jack soon joining in. At the sound of his voice saying “Bravo Wolf,” Donna turned around. 

“You! Jack,” She said, eyes appraised him, and found him as expected. Jack quickly placed her as Rose's friend.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she grinned like she spotted a choice cut of steak.

Jack chuckled, “Lovely to see you too Donna.” Though she looked nothing like he'd described, he quickly adjusted his mental picture of her. They walked together out to the lobby to wait of rose. Though John was no where to be seen. 

“That dinner was actually good,” Donna exclaimed.

“Surprisingly so,” Jack agreed.

“Except for my food,” she lamented.

“Oh the apple tarte?”

“Oh, boyy, that tarte…. excuse me,” she trailed off as Rose emerged from the backstage door, arms laden with papers, hair still down and swinging around her shoulders. One of the judges approached her.

“I've never heard this piece played like that,” the lady judge with the broach said, “it was stunning.” She continued in her path but her smile warmed Rose from the inside out.

Rose finally arrived by Donna, Jackie, and a man with very blue eyes. She looked questioningly at Donna who shook her head slightly. Trying not to be a little disappointed she stopped in front of them.

“I've heard the cooking could use some work, but congratulations on the piano.” Jack greeted, and sent her his best smile.

“Oi lay of mah daughters cookin’ mate. Or you'll be the one gettin’ cooked,” Jackie turned to glare at him, didn’t matter how pretty he was, nobody was picking on her Rose.

Jack stepped back, as Rose chimed, “Love you too mum.” And gave her mum a quick hug.

“Thank you,” she said to Jack, “Jack right?”

“Yeah, his name by the way, is John. Dr. John Smith. Only fair, he knows yours now,” and with a smile he sauntered away.

“He's bloody hot…” Donna said dreamily. Rose rolled her eyes. Hot he might be and he had an excellent bum, but she was only interested in one man. In spite of his more childish tendencies. “I broke it off with Lance you know. You were right. He was not good enough for me. Temp though I may be.” Donna said with a sniff. Rose squeezed Donna’s hand,  
“Good. I was hoping you’d let that one go.”

Donna's phone went off and she held up her hand to signal she was off to go answer it. Jackie gave her daughter another hug before bounding off to ‘get the shopping done before the hoards came to buy all the milk half off’. And Rose was left alone, which was of course when Jimmy would approach her, as he did.

“Do you think putting on that display with the hair and the blouse was really getting in on your talent my little girl?”

Rose scowled. This...emotionally abusive, manipulative, prick...she recalled The Doctor’s last words about him and with a self satisfactorily facile in her chest she picked up her hand and slapped him across the face. It wasn’t a punch, but Jackie would’ve been proud. The resounding crack sent him backwards as he clutched his bleeding nose. With a smile and levity to her steps Rose turned and saw the wide eyed Donna on the phone looking shocked, horrified, and a little impressed. Good then. Rose thought, it was time to deal with the other man in her life now. She rushed out of the hall and onto the street, looking for...him. not that she'd know him by sight but there she was. Donna followed, 

“Did you think he'd be out here?”

“He was.” Rose replied, clutching her notes tighter to her chest.

Jack was at the door of a cab, “Do you two need a ride?”

“No,” Rose shook her head, “I'll walk back.”

“I'll take a ride!” Donna called and turned to Rose with a grin.

“If that's alright?”

Rose shook her head laughing at her ridiculous friend. 

“Yeah, go on.” Her smile was wide and bright, shout her eyes. 

Donna got in the car.

“So where are you going?”

“Wherever you like,” she smiled up at Jack, who grinned, “Well alright then.” Rose watched the cab drive away and with a smile picked her way down the streets to her flat.

She entered and set down her music folders. 

“Doctor?”

“John?” Rose kicked off her shoes.

“Doctor are you there? Please be there?”

“I have a lot to say. The audition was...thank you for that. And our friendship is unquestionably unique. Out of this world, I know but... but when I go outside I wish you were there. And I want to go with you on all those adventures. I want to be your hand to hold. And now I wish you were here.” Rose faced the wall. Her wall. Her Doctor, with tears in her eyes. He didn't say anything. But something knocked. Louder than he had ever knocked.

Rose hopped back in alarm. A narrow crack appeared in the wall. Followed by a large one. Followed by what might be a sledge hammer and then a strange buzzing noise. Sheetrock dust coated the air in both sides of the wall. 

John soniced the wall, brainy specs on and chin up. His sonic was loosening the molecular bonds, the project completed and done. And he was free from working on it. From anything. He could go anywhere. With her. Dropping the device he picked up his sledge hammer and then took a swing. The sonic really could have done it, but nothing quite said ‘The Doctor’ like a dramatic entrance. With a wide enough hole, John took off the specs and pocketed them. He took a breath. And walked through the wall.

And there she was. Bad Wolf. Rose Tyler. She was...everything he believed in. Barefoot, in a knee length black dress, hair bottle blond and falling in rings down her shoulders. Her jaw was wide and lips generous. When she smiled her tongue got stuck between her teeth. But her most striking feature was those eyes, those honey brown eyes, lit gold by the sun and a million bit of dust and gypsum powder. He stepped forward further into her space. 

There he was. Dr. John Smith. Her Doctor. He was...her everything. He was dusty, from his cream converse to his brown pinstripe suit. His hair was glorious, stood up in all directions, a rich chocolate brown that matched his eyes. Nothing about his face was symmetrical, but his goofy boyish grin was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She sent him a tongue touched smile in return. She took a step forward as he did and suddenly if she wanted she could reach out and touch him. 

But he beat her to it, his hands, with dozens of calluses cupped her face, fingers tracing her jaw. All the while those intense eyes looked down at her. She couldn't break eye contact and wouldn't dare. His choice might have seemed abrupt to others but he had wanted to do it for ages and Rose's entire posture was screaming at him to do it. So he pulled her in tight and kissed her. 

Her lips were full and warm, pliant against his own. It took her a moment to respond but she did, surging back and capturing his bottom lip between hers. Her hands wound around his waist and she grabbed a hold of him. Now that she had him she wasn’t about to let go. 

He pulled back a moment to look at her face again, and she smiled, all tongue and teeth, all pink and yellow. He pulled her back into a hug, sweeping her off the floor and spinning in a self-indulgent circle. Nose buried in her neck he learned the scent of her, vanilla shampoo, human, warm, Rose. She clung to him just as tightly and when he set her down, they were still shuffling along the floor in a slow spinning dance. If pressed to answer they both would have sworn they could hear music. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so if you want a nice sweet ending stop here. Next chapter is just smut, as I have tortured you all long enough. Thanks for all the kudos, comments and such! They all make me happy on the insides!


	14. Your Lips (Are Mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey published two chapters at once so if you haven't read the other now be the time for ye to turn back ~
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> Here be the smut (I have never published smut before so please don't hate me. Also If you'd like to ignore this chapter it adds literally nothing to the plot.)

The Doctor set her down and she couldn’t resist grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket and crushing his lips to hers. He stumbled back but caught himself against the piano. When he began to respond to her kiss, Rose let out a soft sigh. His lips were soft and the faint hint of afternoon stubble pleasantly brushed her chin. She tilted her face up for better access and his arms wrapped around her waist and brought her flush to him. His lips caught her top lip and pulled gently. She melted and her lips parted. He pulled back and kissed her cheeks, her neck, his tongue traced the curve of her ear. 

“Rose...Rose…” he whispered against her skin like a prayer. She never wanted him to stop. The timber of his voice, the rumble of his chest against hers pooled low in her abdomen. With a hand she reached out and caressed his face. He stopped to look at her. 

“I love you.” She said without impudence, it was simple truth. The sky was blue. Water was wet. Rose loved the Doctor. He looked at her as emotions flashed over his eyes. Wonder. Fear. And something indescribably soft. 

“Quite right too. And I’ll never stop saying it, Rose Tyler, I love you.” Her hands shook as she ran them up his chest and around his neck to pull him back in. 

“Kiss me?” she asked. He obliged. 

His mouth slightly open and his warm breath cast out across her lips. With a slight prod of his tongue she opened her mouth back to him and sighed as his tongue caressed her own. She leaned further into him, pushing him back further into the piano, and he swiveled around to fall back onto her bed. 

“Rose?” he asked, breathless, dusty, and laying exactly where she wanted him. 

“John?”

“...I think I like Doctor better at this point,” he grinned, lips and cheeks dark pink.

“Doctor,” Rose said, her tongue in smile on full display. He sat up and grabbed a hold of her pulling her onto the bed with him. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking into her bright whisky eyes, drunk on love and kisses. 

“More than.” She consented sealing her mouth back over his. She pushed her hands underneath his suit jacket and it fell away to the floor. This was shortly followed by his tie. Then vest. Then oxford. 

“Why’ve ya got so many bloody layers?” Rose grumbled her teeth nipping at his pulse point. John felt the resulting groan in his chest. 

“I’d...normally” he hummed as her hand slid under his henley, the last layer, “argue with you, but,” he gulped as her hand ran under the waistband of his trousers fingertips brushing his rapidly growing erection, “now I’m just as upset with mysel--” he stopped rambling as she kissed him again, his own hands pulling down the zip of her black dress. It slid down her shoulders, and he followed it’s downward movement with his eyes, then lips as he kissed his way down her neck, down her side, to her waist where the dress pooled. She looked at him questioningly, a bit of apprehension in her gaze. 

“You’re beautiful Rose,” he said, with his widest daftest grin, hoping she’d relax, “It’s just me.”

“You’re pretty too Doctor,” she replied, full smile and she stood, kicking the dress off and removing his shirt fully. 

His hands cupped her chest through the black silk bra she wore, and slid around to her back to unhook it. He fumbled and she giggled into his neck. With a self indulgent smile he shrugged his hopeless ineptitude away, and she helped. Her bra fell away and he ran his hands over her breasts, thumbs smoothing over her nipples and eliciting a breathy gasp. He explored her skin, with tongue and teeth, licking and nibbling over her chest, and with a circular brush of his tongue around her nipple drew out a pant, “Doctor…”

“Hmm…? Yes?” He pulled away, a small self satisfied smirk on his face. It quickly dissolved as she worked to divest him of his trousers and pants in one swift tug. Her hands grasped his waist and traced a path down from his navel. She grinned up at him, peppering kisses along his abdomen and following the short dark hairs of under his navel down. He moaned as her hand wrapped around his length and slid down. 

“Hold on,” She said standing, and digging through her bedside table. She emerged with lube and a condom. 

“Prepared?” He asked quirking an eyebrow, looking ridiculous and delicious sprawled out over her bed, naked and hard. 

“Hopeful.” She winked. And he groaned as she shimmed back over him. He used the opportunity to slide her knickers down her legs as she kicked them off. She slid the condom over him and pumped her hand up and down as his eyes fluttered open and shut. 

“Roseee…” he whined. And in a heartbeat flipped her under him. “I want this to be good for you too…” he said, fingers trailing down her back and giving her bum a quick squeeze. His hands teased the soft skin of her inner thighs and stroked higher as she whimpered beneath him. John found the apex of her, and lightly traced slow circles as Rose began to writhe underneath him. 

“Doctor...I want…” She licked her dry lips, “I want you.” He shuttered, lined himself up and slid into her. He lowered his lips to her in a desperate kiss. Sliding a hand to continue massaging her clit as she bucked her hips up into him. He kept the temp consistent and with a strangled gasp she came around him. He rode through the waves with her, the tightness and warmth pushing him too over the edge. With a groan he rolled off her, breathing heavily. 

He kissed her forehead as she caught her breath, and he took care of the condom, and returned to the bed, opening his arms. Rose shuffled into them, pillowing her head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat real time, right beneath her hands. 

“I love you,” he said kissing the crown of her head, lips pressed into hair.

“I love you too,” she replied, breath ghosting across the smattering of brown hair on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all, it's been fun
> 
> Nohbdy


End file.
